Father's Son
by Mellaithwen
Summary: AU. I Dream of Phoebe. Chris doesn't make his wish, and Leo sends him back to the future. Will Phoebe and Paige be able to get him back in time before Wyatt finds him?
1. Chapter 1

**Father's Son**

**By Mellaithwen**

****

**Rating: T**

****

**Genre: Action/Adventure/Angst**

****

**Disclaimer: I do not own ANYTHING**

****

**Summary: AU. I Dream of Phoebe. Chris doesn't make his wish, and Leo sends him back to the future. Will Phoebe and Paige be able to get him back in time before Wyatt finds him?**

**This is a revelation fic in case you were wondering, as well as a Chris angst one. ****Sorry it took so long, I was trying to get a lot more done at the same time but I know if I didn't post it soon, it'd never get posted!**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter One**

"I could heal him, master. Your warrior needs his strength. My last master will be coming back for me." The woman said, her scantily clad pink outfit being a perfect contrast against her dark skin.

"I think he's got it under control." Phoebe Halliwell spoke up as she watched her nephew being healed by his father, though the Elder was clueless of such a thing.

"Good idea, save your wishes."

"Did you get a good look at the demon?"

"I did, and when we're done here I'll go up to the Book of Shadows and check it out. I also called Paige to see if she can keep an eye on Jinny for me."

"Thanks." Chris said to Leo, as he stretched his newly healed shoulder.

"There is no need to guard me. Even if I was not bound to serve you I would do it anyway for sparing me from Bosk."

"Bosk?"

"My last master. He's cruel, even for a demon. And I would know. My bottle has been passed around from demon to demon for centuries."

"That's terrible." Leo said with sympathy, and Chris fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"You can not begin to know. That is why I got a message to Phoebe. I knew if she had my bottle she would wish me free."

"No wishes. I know all about Genies. You're tricksters."

"Listen, I gotta get back up there. You think you can handle this without Piper?"

"Where is Piper?" Chris asked

"On a date."

"On a date in the middle of the day?"

"Yeah, Greg works nights." Chris thought to himself for a moment, pondering the name, before his eyes widened as the memories re-surfaced

"Greg, Greg. Greg, the fireman! You mean the one she's insanely sexually attracted to?" Chris asked incredulously, staring at Leo, "Doesn't that bother you?"

"No. If it's makes her happy, that's all that matters."

"Oh, come on! What about all this forbidden lovers, you and me against the world stuff? That just doesn't go away." The story had always given him hope, that despite everything his parents love would overcome all. It was a shame Leo hadn't been as _loving_ when it came to being there for his second son.

"You know, Chris, it's a little late for male bonding. Especially since I'm petitioning the other Elders to send you back to your time."

Everything stopped as Leo uttered the words.

"What?"

"Wait, are you serious?"

_Please say it's a sick joke_ Phoebe's mind prayed.

"You look tense, master. Neck rub?" Phoebe swatted away the genie's efforts to relieve the tension as she stared at Leo.

"Even though Chris's intensions are good, his methods have put us all at risk. So, he's going back."

_Going back. _

The words reverberated around the young half-Whitelighters mind.

"_Dad!"_

_The clashes and clangs of war whirled around him as he screamed. Gunshots fired from every direction, energy balls whizzed past him, growls and grunts made it impossible to concentrate on the body in his arms. He knelt in the centre of the battle field of what had once been a road, now crumbled and broken. He knelt, exhausted, torn between his heritage and his incessant want to protect innocents._

"_Dad! Please!"_

_He begged as he cried into the air, desperately clinging onto his second in command, blood seeping through his fingers, tears threatening to fall. The world seemed to speed up, as Chris stayed completely still. Soon the battle died down, as the last fighters fell. He lay there, unconsciously shaking the body in front of him, scarily aware of the lack of chest movements that would signal breathing that would signal life. "Dad…" He whispered in a choked sob._

"_Chris."_

_His head shot up, surprised at the voice's presence. _

"_You have to go to your brother, he's worried sick." The angst left him, and only fury remained. "He did this! I'm never going with him, never!"_

"_Chris! You have to, this is bigger than any of us, and your brother is trying his best!"_

"_No! I won't! You can't make me!" He had been about to orb away, and then, a horrible harsh tug and the words of a very frustrated parent in his ear, "No Chris! You are going back!"_

"You mean abandoning me again." The words spoke volumes to Phoebe, but meant nothing, sadly enough, to Leo.

"Look, you did your job, you warned us about an evil that was after Wyatt. I think we can handle it from here."

Job, talk about impersonal.

As though he were nothing more than a troublesome messenger.

Chris ignored his fathers orbs, stepping forward to Phoebe.

"I've gotta stop him."

"Don't worry, I'll talk to Leo.

"No, no, not Leo. Greg, the fireman. He's about to sleep with my mom." He said, beginning to orb out when Phoebe said to herself.

"I really wish you wouldn't do that." Jinny slapped her hands together and nodded.

It was different to when Leo had pulled him back those few times. It wasn't like Wyatt's blocking spells where you were thrown back, no, it was smooth and simple, so much so that Chris barely registered it until he materialized back in the manor.

"What just happened?

"Your wish is my command, master." Phoebe grunted, annoyed that she had cast a wish, while Chris scowled.

"Alright, where's the Genie?" A voice called as the front door slammed shut, and Phoebe and the genie walked into the living room, while Chris walked away, trying to find different spots in the manor where he might be able to orb.

"Oh my god, you landed one." Paige said with an awe filled smile as she stared the woman up and down.

"She's a Genie, not a trout." Phoebe replied distastefully.

"You still have two wishes, master. I suggest you save one for Bosk." The name itself held a thin layer of fear.

"I told you, no wishes. We're gonna do this our way."

"But you can not handle him. Nobody can. He has a flying carpet and an army of forty thieves."

"Thirty-eight. I vanquished two."

"Let me guess. He wanted a crew and a nice ride. Original for a demon's wish, yeah?" Paige quirked.

"Yes. And if Bosk gets me back, he will force me to grant his third wish."

"What's his third wish?" Paige asked, her tone more serious as a set of large diamond earrings appeared on her ears.

"Did you do that?" Phoebe asked the genie confused.

"No, but they are lovely." Jinny said without missing a beat. "Who conjured them for you?"

"My boyfriend, Richard. He's been showering me with gifts all week." The sentence seemed out of place when coupled with Paige's annoyed tone.

"I thought you were gonna talk to him about binding his powers?" Phoebe asked as Paige sighed.

"I have but every time I bring it up I just get another present. Luxury problem I know, but still."

"Yeah, not good. Back to the demon. Uh, what was his third wish?"

"Zanbar." The genie said in a menacing tone.

"Zanbar?"

"What's Zanbar?" Paige asked, seeing that neither her nor Phoebe knew.

"The lost city. Before being swallowed up by the desert, it was the seat of power for an evil empire." She said, taking no notice of the young male Whitelighter who walked in just at that moment.

"Phoebe? Will you do something, please? I can't orb." Chris complained, annoyed as a diamond bracelet appeared on Paige's arm.

"Damn him." Paige muttered, staring at the jewelry.

"You know, Paige, if he won't listen to you, maybe he'll listen to his family." Phoebe explained, but Paige sighed.

"Most of them are dead. Remember, the feud."

"Please, we do not have time for this. If Bosk captures me, Zanbar will rise again from the dust." Jinny rambled on.

"It's just a city." Paige shrugged, not seeing the importance in urgency.

"A city of magic. Bosk has been using his thieves to search for his former site. If he finds it and wishes it back, there will be no stopping him. That is why you must wish me free, master. If I am not a Genie, it will solve your problems and mine. I beg you."

"Hey, a little help here, please?" Chris asked, annoyed, as he entered the room, still unable to orb away.

As he spoke Paige gasped looking down as her clothes suddenly changed into a black evening dress, and her hair was styled by the aid of Richard's magic.

"Okay, I'm losing my mind." Phoebe muttered. "Uh, Paige, go to Richard, deal with it so you can help us."

"Okay." Her sister replied, leaving. Phoebe whirled on Chris.

"You," She said, "I will help you get your parents back together but it has to be on my terms. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

"Go get Piper, we could use her help. Uh, I wish that he could orb." She said, the last part to Jinny, who put her hands together and blinked, the wish being cast and Chris orbing out, glad for the tingling sensation that came with it to finally envelope his body. "And we need to find a vanquishing potion for that demon."

"Oh, yes, master."

"Phoebe." The empath corrected.

"Yes, master _Phoebe_."

**

* * *

**

Chris waited, having knocked the door several times, he had only stood silent for a moment, but it had been far too long for his impatience at his mother-no _Piper's_ recent attitude.

"Piper! Piper!" He called, knocking the door again and again.

"Forget it." Piper said from her position on the couch. Her and Greg's kiss having been interrupted.

"I know you're in there. Please open the door now." The slightly muffled voice called from outside, and Piper, pondering for a moment, turned to Greg.

"Just a sec." She said, almost apologetically and walked over to the door, the knocks continuing.

"Go away." She said as she swung open the door.

"We have an emergency." He said, as though it would be enough, interrupted suddenly by the aforementioned fireman edging next to Piper.

"Is there a problem here?" He said, making Chris inwardly growl. How dare he come in like the Good Samaritan, saving an innocent damsel in distress from a rude drunkard? Well Chris was no drunkard, and Piper sure as hell wasn't a damsel in distress.

"Yeah, many problems, many levels. Piper has to come home now." He said, almost laughing at the last sentence.

"Excuse me? Who are you again?" He asked, rather poignantly, and Chris turned to him, uninterested.

"I'm a friend of her husband's."

"Ex-husband," Piper said hastily, "And he's not really a great friend." She said with a nervous laugh, leaving Chris to glare as she turned back to Greg. "Um, it's okay, I got it."

"Well, I'm here if you need me." Greg said, kissing Piper as Chris snorted loudly, not bothering to hide his disgust as Piper closed the door behind him, leaving her and Chris in the hallway.

"What is this big emergency? Can't it wait and hour or two?"

"No, it can't. There's a demon on the loose, a Genie running a-muck, and it took me two wishes to get here."

"You can't make wishes with Genies." Piper said, ignoring the rest of Chris' reasons.

"See, we need you. Come on, let's orb." He went to grab her arm but Piper backed away.

"No, no, no. Listen. I am not gonna leave him high and dry again without an explanation. So your demon can wait five minutes." She said, going back inside to the apartement, a cover story about some family emergency not yet used formulating in her mind as she closed the door from Chris.

**

* * *

**

"He was my master once. And him too. And her." Jinny said distastefully, flicking through the book absent-mindedly as she and Phoebe stood alone in the attic of the Halliwell Manor.

"Boy, you sure got around. How did so many demons get a hold of you, anyway?" Phoebe asked and Jinny shrugged as she answered.

"Some bought, some stole. I changed hands so many times I lost track."

"I'm sorry I can't set you free. But wishing is just too risky right now." Phoebe said sadly, as orbs filled the room and Piper and Chris appeared. The female of the two taking charge immediately.

"Okay, let's go. Greg's not gonna wait forever." Chris cringed momentarily before saying;

"Well, then you should dump him." The comment holding much more than a casual response.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Piper asked suspiciously.

"He's just being over protective." Phoebe said, jumping in on her nephew's behalf.

Her nephew.

The thought still seemed strange to her, but the more she thought about it, the better it sounded. It just fit.

"I take it you're the Genie." Piper said, seeing the strangely dressed stranger in the room.

"Jinny." She replied, as though Piper had pronounced her title wrongly.

"Jinny the Genie." She said, smiling with her teeth forced forward in awkwardness.

"Of course." Piper said, bemused. "Who's the demon?"

"Uh." Chris stalled, as he walked towards the book and quickly scanned it. "He's a low level demon with minimal powers." He said, the page showing a well-drawn picture and a small portion of information. "There's a vanquishing potion."

"Yeah, that's what I'm working on." Phoebe said, her tone betraying how obvious she thought it was.

"Good. Then you're almost done with me too. Okay, so what you're planning is summon him to us?" She couldn't have made it more obvious that she was in a hurry, and all members of the room picked up on it.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

"What's the rush?" Chris asked, almost annoyed.

"Well, not that it's any of your business but Greg's shift starts in a few hours and I won't see him for three days. So I'm gonna go call him and I'd put the Genie back in the bottle just to be safe." She said, taking charge and turning to the genie. "No offence, but we've been burned before." And she left the room, knowing her sister could handle placing the genie back inside of the bottle

"Do you mind?" Phoebe asked.

"Yes, master." Jinny said, her tone showing the Yes was not merely a consent to do as she was told but an answer to the question Phoebe had asked. There was a wooshing sound as Jinny was sucked back into the bottle, leaving a guilty empath behind.

"I feel so bad." She said, staring at Chris.

"As well you should. If we don't do something soon, I can end up half fireman instead of half Whitelighter."

"Oh, for goodness sake." Phoebe sighed, seeing that Chris was far from finished when it came to his own survival. His very existence.

"Look, I'm running out of time here. So what do you say we get to use that Genie to make mum and dad... you know." He said, the idea giving him the creeps, but knowing it may be his last chance.

"That's vile," Phoebe said, pulling a face, "And against the rules. I would think you wouldn't want to be conceived that way." She tried a different tactic but by Chris' reply it was clear it hadn't worked.

"Well, beats not being conceived at all."

"Look, I told you I would help you on my terms, okay? So back off." Though in truth, Phoebe had no idea what she would do.

"What are your terms?" Chris asked the question Phoebe had been expecting but not wanting.

"Hmm, not really sure yet. But I am done with this potion. As soon as Piper gets back we are ready to go." She said with a smile, turning to cork the potion, just as there was a loud crash and she span around to see Chris falling to the floor, knocked down by the large flying carpet carrying the demon Bosk into the attic.

The potion still in hand, Phoebe threw it with a burst of strength, but as it neared it spontaneously combusted before impact, the amulet around Bosk's neck doing it's job.

"Not this time, witch." He said, grinning, not anticipating the next move.

"Jinny, I wish you free!" Phoebe said, suddenly desperate. A cloud of pink smoke rose up from the bottle, engulfing Phoebe, and as it cleared, Jinny stood there, menacing in her black attire.

"Well, it's about time. Who's the master now?" She asked, not waiting for an answer.

Jinny threw the fireball with a glare on her features, smiling with her tongue behind her teeth as Bosk burst into flames. Vanquished. Jinny turned, reaching for the bottle, and Piper, who had walked in, in time to see the cause of the demon's shrieks, called out:

"Chris!" She cried, and instantly he held out his hand, working in tandem with his mother like a well oiled machine as it flew into his hand telekinetically as Piper tried to blow up Jinny, who ducked.

Both Witches looked on as the demon jumped onto the flying carpet and escaped through the window.

"Where's Phoebe?" Chris asked, getting up.

_Where's my last chance at getting mom and dad together?_

"Here. In here!" A disembodied voice called, and Chris looked inside of the bottle to see Phoebe clad in genie regalia.

"Hello, master."

Chris almost laughed but felt the bottle snatched out of his hands suddenly as Piper strode forward, taking command.

"Get out!" Piper cried, waiting, but Phoebe only stared, and then began to inspect the area around her, taking no notice of her sister.

"Will you come out of there, _please_?"

"I can't. I don't know how. Try commanding me."

"Uh, okay. Get the hell outta there."

"No, not you; My master." There was a definite hint of embarrassment in the middle-sisters voice but Piper chose to ignore it and walked away. Chris, having heard, looked in.

"You mean me?"

"Well, yeah, you did pick up the bottle, didn't you?" Phoebe said in a _duh_ sort of tone.

"Alright, get out of the bottle. I command you." Chris said, enjoying the small burst of power it gave him. Blue smoke rose up from the small pink bottle and Phoebe appeared, looking none-too-happy, especially when her older sister laughed.

"You look ridiculous." Piper commented on her sister's appearance, trying not to giggle.

"I feel ridiculous." Phoebe growled, harrumphing.

"How am I supposed to get back to Greg now with this?" The elder sister asked, still stifling a laugh.

"Is that all you care about? Would you look at me? I am trapped in pantaloons right now. Where is the mirror?" Phoebe asked annoyed, stepping back to see herself in the reflected glass.

"Oh and why do I always get stuck with the wig?"

"Trust me, you don't. Leo!"

"Have you ever noticed that Leo is the first person you call in your time of need?" Chris said, trying to get his mother to feel something for the Elder non so subtly.

"Uh-oh." Leo said as he orbed in.

"Yeah, right, uh-oh.

"I still can't believe you made a wish with a Genie. You know better than that." Piper said whirling on her sister.

"I thought she was an innocent. How was I to know that I was gonna unleash a demon?" Phoebe asked exasperated while Leo picked up the bottle, reading the inscription.

"It says so right here."

"Oh, right, right there in Arabic."

"There's a warning label on the Genie bottle?"

"Yeah. An ancient sorcerer condemned a demon into the bottle for not marrying him. It says whoever tried to free her they have to switch places with her. Missed a big one here, bud." He said, explaining, and then turning on Chris, blaming him.

"You wanna pin this on me?" Chris asked incredulously, amazed at his father's impertinence.

"Leo, it's not his fault, it's my fault." Phoebe said, sticking up for her nephew when Piper butted in.

"How come your empathy thing didn't give her away?"

"She tricked me and obviously the book too." Phoebe explained.

"Let's just figure out a way to fix this, okay?"

"Well, the only way to fix it is to get the demon to wish Phoebe free, reverse the magic." Leo explained, his Elder-wisdom coming in handy.

"That's what we need to do then."

"I'll call Paige." Piper said, leaving the room.

"Yes. I do believe the element of surprise is very important here." Phoebe said.

"You sure? Because we could always take our time with this plan, you know, keep Piper around just a little bit longer." Chris supplied, through clenched teeth

"Yes, master." Phoebe said automatically, seeming surprised at her own reply.

"Good, I'm glad you agree."

"Actually, I don't agree, but I-I can't... How am I supposed to take charge and take commands all at the same time?" She said, re-directing her question to Leo.

"Well, you won't have to. Chris is coming back up there with me. The Elders have agreed to send him back to his time."

The air was suddenly thick.

"What?" Chris exclaimed, in a panic, and in anger. He had forgotten about Leo's previous threat, but was now harshly reminded.

"You don't know what you're doing here, Leo." Phoebe said emphatically, hoping he would hear the tone in her voice and listen.

"You don't belong here. And as your Whitelighter he's doing more harm than good." He said switching from Chris to Phoebe.

"You're so full of it. This isn't about me being a bad Whitelighter, it's about you feeling like I've let you down somehow. So whatever issues you might have with me, can't you just get over it already!"

"No Chris I can't just get over it, you've put the girls in danger, the Elders have agreed." He looked at the expression of mild hopelessness on Chris' face, almost like a lost puppy. It wasn't forced, and he wasn't trying to get something, he was afraid, pure, unadulterated fear at being abandoned, and left with a madman in a destroyed world.

"Come on." Leo said coldly. Chris took one last pleading look at Phoebe before Leo grabbed his arm and orbed him away.

"Oh god." Phoebe muttered as she began calling for Leo again and again.

**TBC**

**-Hand falls off- **

**Think that's my longest first chapter ever!**

**Please Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: None of it belongs to me, except the AU plot :) **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, here's something for the weekend since technically it's 30 minutes into Friday...**

**Chapter Two**

Chris was sorely tempted to orb away, to cloak himself. He could make it to the Underworld, work from there, and vanquish demons before they had a chance to appear in the Manor, but he knew the Elders weren't _that_ stupid, and Leo would have no trouble orbing down there and finding him eventually if he put his mind to it. They would orb him back forcefully. They would do everything in their power to make him step through that portal.

His hands were shaking uncontrollably and he clenched them tightly but it did not calm his nerves, his nails dug into his palms, and he bit down on his lip until he drew blood. He closed his eyes for a moment. He hadn't been afraid before, why was he now?

_Because last time he almost killed you_

_B__ecause last time he killed Bianca and took away the last thing you had, the last thing you were fighting for, really fighting for._

_The perfect wedding for your fiancee. _

_Because the second you set foot in the future his Demons will be after you, there'll be nowhere to run, no Witches to save you, no Whitelighters to heal you. _

_Just imminent death._

_Or worse;_

_Joining Wyatt..._

"Chris." Leo said, almost in a threatening tone, but it was only said to urge the boy forward, seeing the impatience growing on the Elders' faces at the frozen form that had caused them so much trouble over the past year. Leo, as pacifistic as he was, was already doubting himself, and wondering if he was acting too soon, too harshly. In all truth, he had never really heard the boy out, and considering someone was sending assassins after him...

What if it was Wyatt? The Elder wondered to himself. What if his perfect little boy, his first-born and twice blessed was sending assassins and destroying lives. Leaving warrants for murder in his wake, forever forgotten in the rubble of modern society.

What if Chris was the victim, and he was pushing him away, likea lamb to the inevitable slaughter.

Chris turned around, staring at Leo, who flinched at the look on the young man's face. Fear and determination, a lethal combination and Leo half wondered how terrifying the man must be to his enemies when adrenaline pumped through his veins and magic coursed through his every being as he slashed and parried and fought for what was right.

If he did indeed fight for what was right, and not wrong. Not evil.

He had come to prevent Wyatt's turning, so surely he was on their side, on a quest to write away his future of cruelty for a better one with a good Wyatt.

Unless he was jealous of Wyatt's hold on the Underworld, and wanted it for himself. Yes that had to be it.

_Yes, Leo, convince yourself he's evil so you can sleep at night while he dies..._

Damn concsience, Leo thought as he looked back at the man, who had followedhis owngaze to the floor, unwilling to let this man get off scott free without at least one final glare laced with venom and hatred, feelings he had always directed towards the bastard that dared try to call himself a father.

Or at least, he had tried in the past.

Well, future, that was. Is. Will never be again.

His jaw was clenched as he tried to calm himself down, but he couldn't, his breathing was getting worse as the prospect of returning came back to him, he was panicking and he knew it. Betrayal and fear shone in his green eyes and Leo felt a pang of guilt once more, but reminded himself that the Elders and he agreed; this had to be done. Remindedhimself of his prior doubts that this half-breed was working for either side, or maybe even both. He reminded himself of the sisters, and of their well-being. Of the well being of his son, and ex-wife and how they were his priority and if he couldn't keep tabs on Chris and fully accept his Elder responsibilities, then Chris had to go. He just had to.

It was clear from the bobbing of Chris' Adam's apple that the boy was beginning to panic, and if it was showing on the outside it had to be bad. After all, in the entire time he had spent any time with the man, he wsa most definately a private person, not even willing to divulge secrets if it meant saving his life by vanquishing his fiancee.

_Tell him_

Chris' mind screamed in panic.

_Tell him who you are, and he won't make you go back._

But what if he did?What if he denied it completely, denial that would cost time, in which the Elders would profess the improbability of it all.

What Elder would have children? Or at least, dare have another?

So his existence was written off as it was. Unless his parents did re-kindle the dwindling flame of their relationship. He would findout soon enough, as soon as he stepped through the portal in fact, because if he whisped away into the smoke then he most surely, had not been concieved.

Or maybe there would be no effect at all. He wasn't a part of this timeline, so by going to his own future, where he did belong, he would have his own past, where he had been concieved and born inside of a loving marriage, a loving family.

That shunned him if ever he badmouthed Wyatt or gave cause for his parents to doubt the golden child's activities after hours as he stayed out late, doing god knows what with god knows who

What if he lectured him about the laws of the time space continuum?

_What if he placed himself on his pedestal for all to see, and bellowed to the world what a failure you are?_

What if he still expectedhim to go back to your time?

_He may not be your favorite person but you can't take that kind of rejection and you know it_

Leo looked at the portal, and Chris more than got the hint.

"You have to go back." Leo said, with no emotion visible on his face. What was it the man had said last time he had gone to the future? _'Next time you're in trouble you've gotta tell us' _

And he could, if he wanted to. He could turn around and beg, he could convince him, maybe even call him 'Dad' for a little dramatic effect, but it wouldn't do any good.

Chris prepared himself. He wouldn't fight them, it wouldn't help matters, but he would fight the demons on the other side. He gathered his strength, not caring if the Elders felt his power emitting from him, the power of a charmed ones magic and an elder combined, at least, if he was ever conceived he would be. They simply stared, wondering if the boy would attack, but he merely took a deep breath and walked through.

The blue light engulfed him, Leo waved his hand, and the portal closed. He and every other Elder had felt Chris' power, something that had been dormant for almost a year, hidden away but just then there had been nothing in the way, nothing blocking them or stopping them from seeing the truth.

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat. Something that powerful could have killed him in a second. But it didn't. Or more correctly, he didn't. And the father, the Elder, and Whitelighter to the core, could not comprehend, why?

**

* * *

**

"Leo! Leo!" Phoebe screamed, having been doing so ever since he had orbed Chris away.

"LEO!" She bellowed louder than before, earning an audience from Piper, just as Leo orbed in. Phoebe wasted no time in beginning her tirade.

"Get him back here right now!" She screamed, stepping forward menacingly. "I mean it Leo, or so help me god-"

"I can't Phoebe." Leo said simply, and Phoebe froze.

"You didn't, please say you didn't."

Leo nodded, and the lack of regret fueled Phoebe's anger. She pushed him backwards, continuing to do so until he was in a corner. The man refusing to retaliate on his former sister-in law.

"You idiot! You've sent him off to his death! Do you know what he's done for us? Do you know who he is even? For god's sake Leo, they'll kill him! They'll murder him and you're fine with it!" Maybe she was over-reacting, she didn't know, but she knew what had happened last time he went back to the future, but she doubted a floorboard would help them now.

"Phoebe, calm down or I'll put you back in your bottle!" Piper cried from the doorway and Phoebe span around.

"_You_ can't!"

"What's going on?"

"Your stupid ex husband here sent Chris back to the future!" She cried, but Piper's reaction was not what Phoebe had wanted. She had wanted support, anger, but Piper turned to Leo. "You did?" She asked a hint of surprise in her voice and once again Leo nodded. So did Piper. She then turned to her middle-sister.

"He only made things dangerous Phoebe." She said and Phoebe directed her anger, fueled by fear for her nephew's well being at her elder sister. Chris' mother.

"They're going to kill him!" She cried almost defeated. "Why can't you see that?"

"Kill who?" Paige asked as she orbed into the attic, sensing the rest of them were up there.

"Chris!" Phoebe screamed earning a startled look from Paige. "You know the kid who's done everything for us, to save the future, and Leo just sent him to his death."

"Aren't you over-reacting?" Piper asked.

"Kid?" Leo echoed at the same time, but Paige looked shocked.

"Well what are we going to do?" She asked, knowing she could be filled in later on.

"We do nothing." Leo said. "Chris doesn't belong here."

"Go to hell, Leo, if anything happens to him-" Phoebe began to threaten but Paige grabbed her arm, orbing her downstairs before things got out of hand and downright,nasty.

**

* * *

**

The dark attic of the Halliwell museum loomed in front of him. Chris span around in time to see the portal close, his breathing hitched in his throat. _Not good, not good. _He muttered under his breath.

_At least Wyatt isn't waiting for me this time._

He heard a perky voice coming up the stairs and froze, he couldn't orb away, and if he did then Wyatt would know he was back for sure even if he hadn't sensed the portal being opened. He looked around and hid behind the few boxes left in the attic in the far corner.

He watched the woman, her face pinched from the tight bun at the back of her head, her blue suit immaculate, her smile never fading, and the inquiring looks of the mortals who worshipped her every word.

She described the mundane articles of the attic, but her voice reached a new high note when she stepped over to the holographic Book of Shadows, describing its legacy as well as any Halliwell could, but in no way was it the same. She spoke about it with facts and humor, while any Witch would speak of it in awe. He still found it hard to accept that he had just come from a place and time intent on keeping magic a secret, and now he was standing, well crouching in his childhood home, now a museum for the magical arts. If only the Tribunal could see it, they might have taken Wyatt's existence as a threat a little more seriously.

As her voice began to dwindle, Chris knew the tour was coming at an end, and judging by the light outside, it was most likely one of the last ones of the day, if not _the_ last one. She led the eager idiots back downstairs and Chris waited, his breath held for a few moments.

Chris dared look out the window, staying out of sight. Burning buildings were in the distance, smoke rising into the air, rubble all around, holes in the road and abandoned cars. Demons and probes roamed the streets, so many in fact that Chris flung back into the side wall; his confidence knocked back a notch.

He hadn't been here for so long, and whether he'd admit it or not he had become dependent on being healed, by daddy dearest, to be saved by the Charmed Ones. The last time he was here, the last time he had been injured before he had taken a trip to the past he had gone months without being healed, though everyone knew he needed it.

The few Whitelighters in the resistant constantly needed to heal, and they were becoming weaker. Chris always made sure he was tended to last, and it had threatened his life on more than one occasion. He sighed, looking out of the window once more. Nothing had changed, not even remotely. The world was in ruins, and he had his beloved brother to blame for it all, but what was worse. He hadn't changed a thing. Granted, he knew Wyatt had yet to be saved, but he had hoped that something might be different.

It wasn't.

**TBC**

**Please Review**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't, but then again, who does anymore?**

**I'm so sorry for the wait! Really! Thanks again to all of the readers and reviewers**

**Chapter 3**

Chris let out a sigh of relief as he hid behind the wall, the probe snaking off into the distance, scanning, in search of Witches. That had been the third to get on his tail since he left the manor. Unable to orb without running the risk of being sensed by his ever-watching, almost stalker-like, brother. So instead he was forced to rely on his finely tuned senses, after years of war, to lead him to safety. He then chuckled; finding such a place in this time was unlikely. Nothing was _safe_ anymore. Nothing. And it absolutely sucked.

The first probe had been disposed of in an instant, as Chris carefully slammed it into the wall, using such a small amount of telekinesis that his brother would never suspect it was him. The second had lost interest as he scanned the surrounding area as Chris hid, and now the third. He sighed, the third had been more persistent, unwilling to forget the possibility of coming across a Witch, so it had followed and continue to follow him, until now, until Chris had waited minutes, long agonizing seconds, holding his breath and pressing himself as close to the wall as possible before finally the whirring was nothing more than a buzzing in the far away streets.

Stupid Wyatt, and his stupid machines. He was not Chris' brother, and sadly, the young man wondered if he ever had been. It seemed that the more he looked back on it the more he could find hidden meanings in everything he did. There was always another incentive, it was merely Chris' choice to wonder if his brother had noticed them at the time, or if they were his only goal, and any praise along the way was a bonus.

He was vulnerable, as much as he hated to admit it, and that meant he needed help, something else he seldom asked for. Hell, he'd been dying in pain from the gaping hole in his chest after his reunion with Bianca and he had failed to tell the sisters anything about it.

It was time to pay some old friends a visit.

* * *

"Uh ok, since when have you been so protective over him?" Paige asked skeptically recalling her sisters attitude toward the Whitelighter of late and her most recent outburst towards their ex brother in law in the attic.

"Look it doesn't matter we just-." Phoebe began, sitting herself down with a sigh on the living room couch.

"No Phoebe it does matter, just tell me!" Paige retorted, having none of her sisters attempt at shrugging it all away.

"I can't, it isn't my place, I want to so much but I can't!"

They were both shouting now and Phoebe had abandoned her sitting position, favoring her attempt at towering over her sister instead as they came face to face.

"Why not? _Future consequences_?" Her tone was mocking, though she didn't intend to be cruel.

Phoebe looked at her youngest sister, sighing. "He's my nephew. _Our_ nephew."

Paige stood back. "What?" Suddenly, she was too close to comfort, especially when it came to letting her reactions be known. If she chose to believe that was.

"Chris is Piper and Leo's son."

Paige merely stood there, but Phoebe was far from finished. Her anger had reached boiling point.

"And Leo, his _father_, has sent him to the future, where he'll be killed!"

Paige began pacing. "I-oh-this is-oh." She sat on the arm of the chair, shell-shocked. She swallowed the lump in her throat, blinking a few times and pushing back the want to pinch herself and effectively wake up from this whacky dream. Though, she noted, not a nightmare as such.

"We have to tell them." She said, looking up at the ceiling towards the attic.

"No, Chris didn't want to, besides something tells me Leo wouldn't believe us anyway."

"Ok, so we have to do this some other way."

"But how?"

* * *

The buildings were dilapidated, and crumbling, the ruins above headquarters were incredibly dangerous. But they had lives depending on them, so they had to keep in the shadows, even if it meant being buried alive. A pet fear of Chris', though he knew 90 of the time, he could simply orb away. The other ten being when Wyatt's spells would kick in, or he couldn't be bloody bothered.

He crept along the edges. He knew where every guard was, because he had ensured they understood why they were stationed there, and how important each and every one of their jobs were. How they had to stay on target, always. He felt bad for sneaking in, because no matter how well he had taught them and how willing they had been to listen, he would still get through easily undetected, which only proved how fruitless it all was if ever Wyatt paid them a visit. Demon's were different, Wyatt's ones tended to be more intimidating than sneaky, and their giant bodies could scarcely be missed, even when the demons in question were trying their hardest to hide.

Wyatt, though his muscles were well defined, almost chiseled to perfection, was an expert tracker, though his brother was still missing to him, and an even better player at hide and seek. Chris hated his brother winning each and every game when they were younger, but he would remind himself that he had been winning this game for quite some time, because forgetting a certain run in with his lover, now sadly deceased, Wyatt hadn't found him, and even when he sent Bianca, it had been she who had found him and fooled him. Not brother dearest. Wyatt was losing his edge, and Chris could keep playing as long as he needed to, though he had a distinct feeling the game would soon come to an end as the minutes ticked by as he stood in his own time once more.

The lack of silence was oppressing. The noise was so different, so much more destructive in it's ways than the past's hustle and bustle. Faint screams in the distance and growls of both the demons roaming the streets and buildings toppling to the ground, groaning at whatever pressure was being pressed down on their foundations and through it all, he never expected his name to shout out at him as a young woman came sprinting towards him.

"Chris?" She shrieked, before the man in question grabbed her, placing his hand firmly over her mouth and whispering for her to shut-up. She let herself be dragged into a store cupboard on the ground floor. "Yes, Jen?"

She took in the taller man before her, drinking in his appearance, searching for any problems to be seen by both the naked eye as injuries, or a simple flicker in the ever confident body language Chris always prided himself on. He was disheveled and his hair had grown considerably. She looked at him skeptically as he wore the leather jacket, and seeing her gaze, he muttered simply. "I was trying it out."

She continued to smile, before glaring and putting a hand to her jaw.

"Okay, firstly, ow! Secondly, where the hell have you been?" She hissed, punching him on the arm, lightly, though she had wanted it to be much worse. Jen wasn't the best fighter, but she was the most decent human in the entire organization, and his second in command when it came to co-ordination and generally sorting things out. She had appointed herself as the human-resources leader, ensuring that everyone was treated fairly and any refugees were taken care of. Witches or otherwise.

Chris smiled sheepishly, well aware that she more than knew where he had been.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, but Chris sighed, realizing they were still in the store cupboard that was getting more cramped by the second. At his silence, she too sighed. "I heard about-." His eyes met hers and she was instantly silenced. He had expected them to know, what little spies they had in the Manor had most likely reported first before anything else that Chris had been taken, or rather, returned. At first they had all panicked, more than anything, and then they had received the second batch, that Bianca was dead and Chris was gone once more.

"I'm sorry." She finished, her voice laced with sadness. Knowing of the love that had been so cruelly lost. Chris stayed silent, unsure of how to reply, or indeed react to the sympathy, that seemed so much more earnest in this timeline where people had seen them together, had seen them work in tandem, fight, and make-up. Make _out_.

"Come on." She said tugging on his jacket and pulling him away to her own quarters. With her wisdom on the more recent guarded posts, and abilities to avoid confrontation coupled with Chris's almost spider-sense-like-Whitelighter gifts, they were able to do so without being detected. Or if they were, they had yet to notice having done so.

* * *

"So, other than protecting your family, and apparently annoying the crap out of them, what other adventures did you go on?"

Chris frowned at the casual tone accompanied by the demanding questions. He thought back to the most recent weeks. He had felt strangely happy that his Aunt had figured out his identity, but the lack of help he was receiving served to truly annoy him. He thought back further instead, and as he came across a re-surfacing memory of being pinned to the wall by Leo-clad in his gladiator gear he realized he'd gone too far. So he sifted once more, and settled on a rather innocent mishap involving the green-gunge with no-name.

"And how is the late great Penny Halliwell?" She was amused, clearly, and he could tell by her grin and tone of voice as he re-told one of the happier adventures, despite his great-grandmothers almost being destroyed, and being berated by her and the sisters...

"Fine." He said simply earning a quirked brow from his colleague.

"Chris, she's the most suspicious woman in the world, especially when it comes to men, you really want me to believe she was fine with you?"

Silence.

"Chris?"

She was right, the woman had been suspicious, and actually, kind of mean, but he had shrugged it off then, pushing it to the back of his mind. It was the same thing he did if ever he got a row from the Halliwell matriarch, and he would mutter that a dead-great-grandmother's opinion really didn't matter to him...

"It's just last time I saw her was after the funeral. I tried summoning her after that, but she never came. No one did, not even mom."

"It must have been hard."

Chris scoffed. Of course it was, and the comment was so impersonal, dry and predictable that it hurt. She could do better, she just didn't seem to have the energy, and though it worried him, it only made him realize how much he'd missed, and how badly he needed to re-insert himself into his old lifestyle, and continue with more plans to save the world, the future, and his brother all in one go.

"I should get going, I mean no offence, but I'm wasting time."

"I know, I know, no rest for the wicker or good, huh?"

Chris nodded; dusting his jeans off, something he did naturally after the grime of the future had found itself back to the fibers of his pants. He growled at the residue of god knows what that only became worse when he tried to brush it away.

"You know where I can find Cole?" He asked, and his brows furrowed at her obvious flinch. They had always been on a first name basis. It had begun with Piper's wariness at accepting her brother-in-law so willingly and through the years Chris saw the man as more of his partner in crime than his Uncle. He was helpful, especially when it came to defense, or learning just that little bit extra about demons that Piper fought to keep from her sons. Though Wyatt had learnt all by himself long before. Surely she wouldn't flinch at something so trivial? And sure, he was a demon, and he had gone off the rails once or twice, or three-ish times, but the entire time she had known him, he had only ever been on their side and had the resistance's best interest in mind.

Unless something had happened. God, he hadn't reverted back to his demonic habits had he? No, Cole, Uncle Cole, would never do that. Never.

So why the flinch. It occurred to Chris that in the time he had spent pondering, he could have simply asked her.

She was biting her lip and looking away but from where he stared he could see more of a slump in her shoulders, and the traces of a smile were long gone.

"Chris, he's dead." She said quietly, only looking at the very last second.

Chris visibly paled, his throat constricting at the news. How could he be...dead? He could take care of himself, not to mention the resistance's strong-hold of Whitelighters would have had no trouble healing his human half, which would have kept him alive.

Chris resembled a gold-fish as he tried to form a sentence through his overly dry throat. His breathing become more labored, the young man fought the urge to crash to his knees, choosing instead to lean against the wall. On his side at first, before turning completely, resting his head against the cold surface, his arm held up over it to hide his emotions, his fists bunched up into a ball, his jaw set. His eyes closed tightly as they pooled with tears...

"Who's in charge?" He asked with a sigh, trying to let his emotions go, but finding it harder to do so as the tension and stress of the past few weeks and now a new dosage of grief was quickly weighing him down like god-damn sandbags.

"Darren." She said with a neutral tone, though the grimace on her face told him all he needed to know. She knew he would disapprove, and he could tell she did too.

"Darren? But- ugh, there was a reason I didn't choose him." He said through gritted teeth, remembering all too well the crazed ambition that drove Darren. His prejudice ruling his decisions against the magical community, for him, the lines were too blurred, and he refused to focus on anything else than the human race.

The shades of grey that he chose to ignore, included many of Chris' kind, and his hasty responses had caused their deaths more than once. The only reason Chris hadn't turned him out onto the street then was because the man had done well in other aspects. He was excellent at co-ordination, and knew how to win a battle, or at least, try to. He was an asset, it was true, but he was also an ass and suddenly, Chris wasn't so eager to make his way to the main Head Quarters to discuss politics.

**Please Review**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Seriously dudes, not mine**

**Thanks again to the reviewers. Check out the author's note at the end please! **

**Chapter 4**

_Bullets ripped through the air, humans having no clue how to subdue their enemies and opting for the American-way to keep shooting until you hit something. They didn't aim, and none of them were careful. They shot without care, panic over-riding their senses, a strange, cave-man like outlook telling them to protect the needy women and children from the beasts trying to ruin their village._

_But most of their targets weren't beasts. _

_They were Witches, and the mortals were too narrow minded to see it. _

_And this wasn't a village._

_It was a city, devastated by War, shut off from the rest of the world. _

_And the woman and children didn't need their protection. Well, the women didn't, many of them could hold their own, and __though it seemed sexist, it was true that only they had been able to discern between the good Witches and the bad Demons, but the cave-men won with their brute strength and intimidating ways. _

_Chris was sixteen. Hardly an age to be seeing the things in front of him, but he was no stranger to the pain. It had been like this for well over a year, not quite two. He had chosen to grieve in silence, unhealthy in itself, but far better than his brother's way of dealing with it. He had seen the world, and he had hated it, he had refused to stand for it, and declared himself ruler. The Ozymandias of their time, Chris would always think to himself, though he knew Wyatt was most definitely thinking of himself as more of a Kubla Kahn type character. _

"_Don't forget Wy, Coleridge was high when he wrote that."_

_He had begged his brother to see reason, but Wyatt had only retaliated in doing the same, pleading with Chris to look around and see the fruitless tasks of destiny put before them, willing his little brother to join him so that they would be together and nothing would hurt them ever again._

_But Chris would see his mother's face smiling in his mind and he would know it couldn't be done. One of them had to remember the lessons of their childhood, and it seemed, whether he wanted to or not, Chris would have to be the one to do so._

_For over a year he had watched, almost stunned into silence at how quickly Wyatt dealt out retribution. To begin with he had vanquished demons left to right, the dust of their burnt flesh being carried away by the winds that bristled past him, but now, now he aligned himself with them, or rather, he invited them to join him. His second in command was a particular ruthless character, who was far too good at slaughtering for Chris' liking. _

_Chris' second in command was the only remaining relative he had left. His Uncle Cole. Indeed, the title was pushing it a little. He and his beloved Aunt Phoebe had only been back together for a few months when she had been killed. It was better that way he mused, it left no room for the heartache their relationship carried with them constantly. But he had no doubt that Cole would have become his Uncle had he been given the chance a second time around. _

_The man was fully in control of his demon half, and could easily switch between the two without worrying that Belthazor may over-ride his senses once again. He trusted his demon half, who had pretty much compromised, the human half having been far more dominant in all of the years they had spent in the void between life and death. _

_He and Chris worked together in tandem against whatever threat, and soon Cole found himself warming up to the young man who was thrown into the position of leading a resistance against his older brother._

_Chris looked around fearfully, he was dodging bullets aimed at one side, while avoiding energy balls from the other. He looked wildly between the two, telekinetically shoving demons to the ground whenever he got the chance, but them grimacing as much of the attention from both sides were cast his way. _

_She was alone, lost, and confused, and Chris realised that it was unlikely she had been abandoned willingly. With all of the death around them, chances were that her parents were among the deceased. She stood, in her small pink dress, spotless despite all of the ruin, but her little pink lace up shoes were covered in mud, the ribbons torn, and hanging on by a thread. Her hair was dishevelled but out of her way, and in her hand was a small milk bottle, with a cloth stuffed in the top to make it last as long as possible. Its white contents most likely being the only ration she had been able to salvage. _

_But it was a bottle, filled with liquid, with a flammable rag atop it. _

_The humans had seen the danger, and the demon's merely saw a target. _

_Both parties prepared to fire, and Chris realised that the supernatural attack would be a better one for him to defend her against. He began running towards her, frantically flinging hevy rubble into the air, landing on top of demon and after demon, crushing them and extinguishing the energy blasts in their hands before they had any chance of being released, and for the millionth time that day, the attention was back on him. _

_The Witch._

_Blue balls of crude electricity shot towards him, he ducked, and sent many flying back to their owners. He could see the __resistance trying to help him, seeing his problems and deciding to protect their leader, but he could also see their demise as the demons returned the favour with a fiersome fury. _

_Simultaneously an energy ball hit him just below his left knee and another hit him in the abdomen. He fell from the pain in his leg, looking down to see the jagged burnt wound bleeding profusely and knowing the same was for his stomach, he could feel the harsh winds blowing the shredded material of his shirt against the raw skin, and he flinched each time as it aggravated the wound. _

_His agony had no end, and he looked up just as an energy ball was deflected away from his head by one of the resistance members. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that he almost wished he hadn't released, knowing the chain reaction of jinxes that were now heading his way. _

_He was prepared for athame's or fire-balls, maybe even beatings, but not the sound. Not that sound._

_Glass shattered, and white liquid poured onto the ground, staining the burning tarmac with the edible alkali. Chris looked up from his position on the ground, and saw the girl falling. Nothing unusual there, children always fell. They were notoriously clumsy, but Chris knew. She lay still on the ground, thrown down by a bullet. _

_She was forgotten amidst the ruins by all save Chris. He crawled over to her, ripping his trousers at the knee as he scrambled quickly, tearing the skin there, and shredding his palms. He reached her side, and turned her around, her body falling like a feather onto his knees. Her mouse-coloured hair covered her face, something Chris was glad of, he couldn't stand to think of the painful expression mirrored in her features, or one of horror and confusion. Both were neither appealing. He looked at her dress, now dirty and ruined. He numbly checked for a pulse he knew he wouldn't find and tried to swallow the lump in his throat threatening to choke him. _

_She was dead, and she couldn't be more than nine years old. _

_Just another casualty of War. _

_He bowed his head into her chest, no longer a warrior fighting fiercely but a young man, who felt the sudden responsibility over a little girl he had never before met weigh him down. _

_He felt hands around his throat, squeezing. His head shot up as the breath left his lungs. Her eyes were opened, her pupils so large that he could see no other colour there. She was grabbing at his jugular tighter and tighter. She opened her lips, and hissed in a voice so unlike a child, one that sounded old and frail and yet firm enough to make him quiver in fear. "You!" She hissed, directing it at Chris. "You!"_

He shot awake, his forehead dripping with sweat as he desperately tried to breath. The blanket was hardly covering him, entwined instead with his legs, and his fists clutching the edge of it so much that his knuckles were even paler than white, and he could see red lines where his nails had dug into his palms.

Blood on his hands.

* * *

"_Go to hell, Darren."_

"_Watch your mouth Jennifer."_

"_Oh don't start."_

"_Me? You're the one hiding traitors!"_

"_He is no traitor! He's the leader of this god-damn organization so show him some respect!"_

"_No Jennifer, he's a liability, you have no idea what he's been doing this year, and neither do we-."_

"_So naturally he must have been with Wyatt, is that it?"_

"_They are brothers,"_

"_So what? You'd kill your brother if you found out he was a Witch!"_

_And another voice, slighter than the first male coughed, and said "But I'm not." Before slinking backward, and letting his sibling continue with his commands._

How Chris had managed to get back to sleep after that, he had no idea, but right now, he wished he hadn't woken up. He had decided to crash on Jen's couch seeing as it was probably no less comfortable than the one in P3's backroom, maybe even more so, and he felt better with another presence so near. It calmed him ever so slightly, yet another thing he would never admit to anyone bar himself. He knew where the exits were here, not to mention he had long since known of the hidden weapons concealed around the make-shift living room, and there was no point going out in search of a box in the street that looked inconspicuous enough for him.

At first, Jen had complained. Mother Hen mode setting in and demanding that Chris at least let her make the couch into some extravagant pretend-bed, but he was having none of it. He was more than content with the lumps of the settee, and the thin blanket draped over him half-hazardly as he dozed. He never slept, not really, because the deeper he did, the more cruel the dreams became. At least in his strange sense of lingering between the awake and the not so awake, his dreams were less frequent through out the night. Though that one, the one he had been blessed with some hours before, was one he hadn't had for quite some time. Quite some years actually. No, this was definitely better. One horrible nightmare a night, and quicker awareness when he came to. Definitely better even if it did mean gulping back just that little bit extra of caffeine.

There were raised voices outside, and even without his unique sensing ability, he knew what idiot was trying to take command. Darren. God, he thought he owned the place. Uh hello, the leader's back step down, bitch.

He listened, far more intently this time, trying to pick out what was being said through the thick walls. He was definitely the topic of conversation, the amount of surprised swearing on Darren's part and Jen's smaller patience level told him that much. Apparently, Darren, suspicious and ridiculous as always, was finding it hard to understand where Christopher's loyalties now stood.

_Jackass. _

_Now, Chris, wouldn't want to stoop to his level._

_You're right. He's a dipshit._

_There ya go._

He growled to himself, though it was focused on the twit outside, who was soon to be inside, Chris noticed as the door handle shook, and he could hear more protests from the female of the fighters.

"Leave him alone." She grounded out, through gritted teeth he imagined, as he continued to listen, but slipped on his scuffed shoes at the same time and ran a hand through his mussed locks, smoothing down any kinks that would prove him giving in to his wary state of recent weeks.

"He needs to be interrogated!"

Chris froze. That hadn't been expected. Not in a million years, interrogation was something they reserved for the lowest of the low's. The scum of Wyatt's regime. Not their leaders.

_Oh shit. _

Questioning he had expected, sure, but interrogation? He knew how that went, he remembered the spike of fear as he had once took it upon himself to teach Darren how to do it properly only to be proven that the young man surpassed even Christopher's limits at cruelty. To be on the receiving end was definitely not something he wanted to do any time soon.

Just as the door finally gave way, Chris began sprinting away while Darren and his brother, whose name had always escaped Chris, ran straight after him. There wasn't far to go, at all, so it became more of a cat and mouse, hide and seek game than kit. Finally Chris saw a break as Darren and Dave (_that's it! A bland name that escaped him for the simplicity that it was so normal, not that Darren wasn't..._) came forward searching for the man who had at that moment used the door to hide. He could hear Jen's breathing from the door, and thanked fate that she knew well enough to not stand in the way.

He jerked around the door, trying to close it as much as possible before he was followed.

And he was followed. Almost instantly. _Shit_.

He was out of the door, running, always running, now into the corridor, but they were gaining on him, fast. Chris was seriously out of practice.

"Chris!" Jen cried out as she saw his pace wasn't fast enough. He heard mutterings, commands. _"Damn it, Dave, get it ready." _And Chris didn't want to hang around to find out what evil contraption this particular ass-hole had managed to come up with.

He'd always been fast. Always. He'd excelled in running but never found any interest in it. His lanky form proved that he wasn't the worlds best sportsman. He'd always needed to run, and it wasn't cowardice. It was survival. Being able to see past your wounded pride enough to assess a situation, to know if you would lose if you didn't leave at that very moment. He would always smile as his mother retold the simple lesson regarding this.

"_You can't run from your destiny, but you can sure as hell run from the demons." Even then Piper had known her youngest would need to run. They would inherit the want to save from both parents, and though powerful they may be, they would be vulnerable alone, and at a young age. They could be easily outnumbered, especially seeing as Wyatt spent less time with his brother, and more time god knows where. Piper had seen it, a glimpse of what was to come but had been unable to heed her own advice and run fast enough. _

_She had screamed at her son to leave, both of their powers dwindling fast by whatever magic the demon had over them. Orbing was no longer an option, and with her own active powers beginning to fade, and Chris only truly being able to control his telekinesis the fourteen year old was no match. He'd already been hit by a fire-ball,a wound that had yet to stop bleeding, and Piper, her motherly instincts reaching an all time high and ordered him to run, while she distracted the demon. _

_She didn't call out to Wyatt. A part of her had wondered if he would even come, he didn't whenever she called him for dinner or for a good ear-full. He came and went as he pleased, orbing even when she forbade it. She found herself getting closer and closer to Chris, while Leo tended to take more pride in his elder son. She told him to never look back. And he didn't, for fear of seeing the inevitable, the reason for her screams. He always shuddered at the thought. He had hidden then, underneath a fire escape of an abandoned building, behind a few bins, crouching in the damp dark. Holding his legs tight as he curled into a ball, pushing himself back into the wall, shutting his eyes tight trying to ignore the world. Wanting to disappear. _

_But he didn't._

_There was a small shriek, diminished by the distance he had run. The demon was vanquished, and Chris waited patiently for his mother to return, a smile on her face as she saw he was unharmed. _

_But she didn't._

_He refused to move, even when the clouds above him rumbled and turned from a grey to a deep black. Lightening streaked __across the sky, as the turmoil built up inside of him. Rain pelted down, hard and unforgiving. He didn't flinch when they bounced off of the stairs above him, hitting him, drenching him. He shivered from the cold, but didn't move. Not even when his feet were numb and his hands having turned a strange pallor of purple. He didn't move a muscle._

_Hours went by, and he refused to move. Darkness descended, and he stayed as still as a statue of a mourning child. He rested his head on his knees, and his body shook even more, from the sobs that racked his body. He didn't want to call out. He couldn't find his voice. He just sat._

_He didn't lift up his head even when the crying subsided somewhat. The rain only increased through the night, but now the cold had set in, and Chris could barely breathe. He heard the ticking of his watch and barely noticed both hands on the twelve. He heard cries of dismay and footsteps a-plenty. But he didn't move. If they were demons, mourning their loss, then he would go down with a fight, but he wouldn't move. They could find him for all he cared. More cries, louder, closer, footsteps harder, quickening their pace, breaking into a run. _

Chris was the better runner. Fast and agile, aerodynamic, using even the worst of conditions to his advantage. But the arrow was faster and he stumbled as it embedded its small tip into his back, allowing the sleeping potion to make its way into his system.

"No!" He heard a cry and a scuffle and more steps towards him. A strange numbness seemed to descend upon him as distorted orders regarding himself were bellowed around him.

He fell to the cold stone floor, his eyes glazed, staring forward as feet surrounded him. He felt the numbness grow and stifled the urge to yawn as his eyes began to droop.

"Chris?" The voice was disembodied, a cross between the reality of , concerned as she knelt in front of him, and the memory of being found. He couldn't focus and it seemed so much easier to just close his eyes.

"_Chris?" His father cried out, choking on the name as if it pained him to call. "Chris?" He stayed completely still. Stupid, it may be, but they were demons. They had to be demons. No one was coming for him, but the demons._

"_Chris!" The bin scraped as it was hastily pushed away. He didn't move, or acknowledge anything. He stayed stock still, and Leo panicked instantly. Fearing the worst. "Oh god, no, Chris? Chris? Please no." Leo gently moved Chris' legs, and the boy didn't protest, he was too weak. Too unaware. His hands were placed at his sides, but his head stayed bowed. Leo gently put a hand on his chin and looked at his son. His face was pale and wet with tears and rain. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, no recognition lying in the green depths. His lips were horribly cracked, and he shivered once more, the position giving off less warmth than previously. _

_Leo quickly took off his jacket, throwing it around the boy as more joined them. Wyatt stood on unsteady feet, unable to comprehend why his mother had lain so still. And now why his brother did the same. As Leo tried to tighten the jacket around the lithe frame his hands came back bloody. Very bloody. His heart dropped and he quickly put his hands under Chris' body, lifting him easily and running out of the dank space in search of more than simple moonlight. The rain began to subside but slowly. Chris' head rested against his father's chest, though he was dimly aware of such a thing. He was laid out on the ground beneath a flickering street lamp as choruses of "Oh my god." Echoed around him, the two females, keeping vigil by their sister, suddenly faced with a more grim possibility. Leo stretched his hands out over the wound, and Wyatt stayed back, in shock. As the warmth from the healing glow surrounded him, Chris felt himself drift to sleep slowly._

**TBC**

**Okay, taking to the stage for a mo, so please read, its kind of important. Apparently, my computer drive is corrupted. Which means sending the whole thing back. Which means not only do I lose the internet for a good few weeks, I also lose the use of Word, and accessing any documents, saved or not. **

**If it makes you feel any better, I also lose everything on my iTunes (3,600 songs, and 58 videos, 500 pictures) so believe me, I'm suffering.**

**By no means does this condone me buggering off for a year, and I won't be. But it does mean any updates, however short or long, will not be frequent (and believe me, so far they have been considering my track record) so I'm warning you guys now in case you don't see an update for a while. Hopefully, I'll see you guys soon. But if not, well...**

**Please Review**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: "I walked a mile with Pleasure, She chattered all the way; But left me none the wiser, For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow and ne'er a word said she; But, oh, the things I learned from her when Sorrow walked with me!" Turns out I don't own that either, at least, that's what Sorrow tells me... **

**You know, I've tried to cut down on the swearing, really, but recently, it's just manifested itself into my chapters. Sorry if it offends, but the rating _is_ T, and it's not like every other word is a cuss... **

****

**Chapter 5 **

The groggy feeling of waking up after a sleep-induced state was becoming far too common for Christopher's liking. It didn't matter whether he had been knocked unconscious, and healed, or whatever drug that had pumped its way through his system leaving him slightly inebriated had finally begun to ebb away, it was still becoming a habit, he'd rather like to kick.

That and being shot.

He groaned quietly, unsure of where he was at that point and not wanting to draw attention to himself just yet. After all, why hurry up the

process of torture, when he could feign sleep for just that little bit longer...?

Shot in the back. How fitting. He had been shot in the back, in every sense, by the prick that was now in charge. He was the leader, he had saved way over half of the members of this resistance, and this was how they repaid him, by attacking him after everything he'd just gone through? He was the poster child for traumatic stress, dehydration, and generally putting everyone's welfare above his own, and yet, this was his welcoming party? Promises of interrogation, hissed as he finally gave way to the darkness, letting the flashbacks of his worst moments, consume him as he lay on the ground unmoving.

He wasn't sure what was worse, the fact that most of the resistance had agreed with Darren enough, their possible fear at going against him, or them simply turning a blind eye to what was going on beneath their feet in the coldest dungeons they had managed to possess.

Out of accident, and sheer luck really. Though Chris didn't think so at the present moment, funny how being held in one can do that to a person. The cells, had been more like rooms, storage facilities, that with a little help from the more skilled members, had soon become fitting for even the worst of criminals to feel at home in the four by four.

They had seldom been used, the resistance was more defense than offense, though Chris would not deny he had helped hold up at least three demons down there, keeping the room magically sealed tight, and still possessing the strength to interrogate. To hurt. To draw blood in an attempt at getting answers, getting what he wanted.

There were some days, dark days though they were, when he wondered if he was as bad as his dear brother. Wyatt only hurt those he saw as a threat against his regime, and wasn't that what Chris was doing? Scum of the earth, hell, or no, he was still resorting to medieval tactics.

_"They get results."_ Cole had said once, after a rare occasion where Chris would voice his concerns, to his trustworthy ally.

Now nothing more than a dead body, and a memory of a life lost.

His uncle was dead, in the ground, or perhaps cremated, he hadn't had time to ask. His defenses had kicked in, resorting to almost ignoring Jen's explanation at the new leader choosing instead to mull over that event rather than grieve. He had grieved too much for a twenty-three year old. Far too much for a lifetime. He grieved every time a mission failed, every time a life was lost, and in War, many lives were lost each and every day. Cole had mentioned that it was most likely from his Aunt's empathy. A hidden power, that without having mastered simply left him reeling from the pain of the world. A dormant feeling, leaving him showered in the guilt of millions.

The thing that drove him, more than most; because he could feel more than most. A lot more than most, probably more than a normal empath would have felt anyway, simply because of the Charmed One's genes inside of him. The blood of his ancestors flowing through him, letting him know of the good in the world, and how it would conquer all if it was given a savior to fight for it. A white knight willing to give his all for a cause he never quite understood, and sometimes in times of doubt, never truly believed.

The greater good.

Maybe they should put that on his tombstone? 'Cause god knows it would be his demise. Living by it, even when Wyatt – as a growing teenager – would point out its many flaws, fighting by it, when no one else fought beside you, and dying by it, alone, be it in this cell, or the next. On a battlefield, having slain his opponent and been to immersed in his victory to see his murderer crouching behind him, until the fatal blow was dealt, or maybe, in silence, as all died around him, and there was his brother. The Angel of some twisted Mercy that would choke him, and coax him into the darkness, before the world fell away and the stars glittering above, were all he ever knew.

* * *

"Is it true?" The gruff voice asked, not angry, not sad, but empty and un amused.

"Depends, sir,"

"On what?" Still un amused, and unperturbed at the close-to-cheekiness from his helper. In the world of humans, he would be named anon, the source, but here, only one very powerful demon was given the title of the Source. Well, only one powerful, Witch with blonde locks belonged to the title.

"On what _it_ is."

The gruff voice sighed. "Why," He raised his hand, a small glow overcoming his palm, "Would you," and thus wrestling his helper (not

source remember) to the ground, "Assume I ever," Fingers tensed, and the helper choked, "Had time for these childish games?"

And suddenly, the gruff voice, though still un amused, unperturbed, and distinctly bored, devoid of any emotions really, had played long enough, and his patience was wearing thin. Maybe just one emotion, if it could be called that, frustration, growing at every little feeble attempt the demon made to lessen the grip on his throat, pushing down, and killing.

"I'll ask again," He said slowly. "Is," He stepped forward, "It," a little closer, crouching to the demon's eye line. "True?" And the nodding, the insistent nodding that let him know exactly how terrified his helper-not-source was, as well as informing of the grave news, that his Master, would not like. Not one little bit. "Y-yes, A-Aruth." He stammered, clutching at his chest and neck. And despite his lack of surprise, his face completely blank, he was not pleased at the news. His Master might want his brother on his side, but having been informed of his presence, from a third party would only irk Lord Wyatt into a fearsome rage.

The upper level demon sighed, fighting the temptation to kick at the bundle of scum that lay at his feet, so easily cracked. A shame to his kind no doubt. He sighed again, kicking at the dust and sand beneath his feet. This, was going to be a very long day.

**

* * *

**

The poke came with the added burst of electricity bursting through the crude device and shooting into his skin, sizzling beneath as he tried to get a hold on his senses and resist the urge to cry out in agony. He had stood to begin with, stood tall against his counterpart, glaring all the while, but soon he realized how futile it would be to fight. This resistance was his, and he hadn't left without ensuring everyone was prepared to keep a prisoner. If he orbed, his brother would be instantly alerted of his presence, and if he ran, well, that hadn't worked that well last time, now had it?

He had stayed standing for as long as he could, but after a while, his legs refused to obey, and he found it so much easier to fall back onto his knees rather than push against the instrument causing his so much pain, in the hands of a man never to be trusted with such an important task as leading a resistance, that was rightly Chris'.

It had been going for quite some time. He had been sitting in the cell, awake for at least an hour when finally Darren came, his face set, as he began asking questions suddenly. One after the other without taking a breath, and neither of which Chris answered. There was no point, he wouldn't be believed, his words would be twisted, he knew only too well how Darren's mind worked, and though he could easily beat him at his own game, ignoring him only fueled the anger. And when people got angry, they got sloppy.

Chris gritted his teeth against the pain as another burst came in the umpteenth attack. He could outlast this, he knew he could, his brother had slammed him across a room, when he had been completely stripped of his powers, after spending a grueling few hours dying after having his fiancée stick her hand in his chest. And that was only one of the more recent events in the great life of Chris Halliwell. Of course he could make it through this, this, this was nothing. This was child's-play.

He gritted his teeth again, letting out a cry behind them.

This, hurt, like hell.

He growled in a low voice that began at his throat, gurgling on the amount of saliva there, and Darren backed away slightly.

"What have you been doing for over a year?" He asked, calmly, though it was clear by his face that he was anything but.

"Saving my brother." Chris grounded out, staring up at Darren, attempting to knock the man back by the guilt he could create. A talent of his that his mother had often commented upon as a younger child.

"And that's all is it? You did nothing else?" He asked, taking another step forward, and resuming his use of the electricity at his beck and call, he left it there instead of retracting it after a few seconds, and Chris felt his fingers curl inside of his fist. He found it harder to fight away the wincing, until a voice called from the doorway, breaking both of them from the trance.

"Leave him alone!"

"And what are you going to do, Jen?" Darren asked, cockily, staring at Chris' prone form on the ground, having slumped down weakly as he reeled from the intensity of the volts.

"I'll get his brother!" The voice, so shrill, and oh so very serious, left every man in the room flinching. Though granted, Chris was simply trying to find a position on the ground that wasn't hurting him at that very moment.

"You wouldn't dare." Darren uttered angrily, but the glare he received told him differently.

"You really think Wyatt's going to stand for someone else hurting his brother?"

"He doesn't care about Chris!"

"No? Let's find out then, I can tell him easily. And then you'll be sorry."

"You tell him, and you jeapordize everything. The entire resistance would be in danger."

"But Chris would be alive."

"I would never kill him!"

"Look at him, Darren! You did that! You attacked your commander and chief! Your leader! What the hell is wrong with you!"

Darren looked down and had enough sense to look ashamed if only for a moment, before resuming the glare. "Go, and take him with you."

"Gladly, you jerk." She said, crouching and giving Chris the extra support he needed to rise to his feet, and leave, with Jen by his side, guiding him, and Darren's hard gaze following her as she did.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Chris said, finally walking on his own two feet after having leant on Jen for support for the minutes that ticked by restlessly as they made their way out of head quarters and to the outside world, keeping their eyes peeled for enemies.

"What for?" She asked, confused at the now broken silence, still eyeing him carefully should he feel the need to collapse.

"Uh, getting you kicked out of your home." He said simply, with a tone that screamed 'duh'.

"Oh that," She smiled and turned to Chris. "I hated it there anyway, especially under the new management. Really Chris, it's okay."

"So what now?"

"We could find somewhere to stay." She said simply, and he reached into his pocket, finding a scrap piece of paper, and searching around him for a pen. It was brandished almost instantly from her pocket and she held it out, wary of his intentions. "There's an empty house, I guess you could call it a safe house here," He said, handing her the details.

"That's great, but why can't you just show me?"

"Because I can't go there, or you'll be in more danger."

"What?" She cried, realizing his intentions.

"Look, Jen, you know if I go there they'll find you, and I can't risk your life, not after everything you've already done. I'm sorry, okay? Just please, go there."

She looked at him for a moment, and reluctantly took the paper, keeping it safe in her palm.

"Gotta love your hero complex, Chris." She said, attempting to smile through the emotions gathering in the back of her throat. She was wasting time, and from the look Chris was giving her, she knew how futile any attempts to convince him otherwise would be.

"Be safe." He said simply, squeezing her hand before running off, back through the maze of alleyways and away from her.

She stood completely still, watching him until he had disappeared around a corner to where she knew she could no longer follow. "You too, Chris." She whispered, before looking at the directions scrawled on the scrap paper and following them as quickly as possible.

**Please Review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't want to own it, I haven't watched it since s7, I mean, seriously, who came up with Billie! Fanfics rule, actual show, sadly enough, droooools.**

**Note to self: Never take this long to update ever again….**

**Chapter 6**

To say the city was dilapidated was a gross understatement. Graffiti was a common place, as was trash, abandoned cars and fires. Flames licked at buildings and torched cars sat in the streets until the last remnants of the fires died away, leaving its scorched remains. None paid the fires any attention, because they, like much of the ruins that had once been the great San Francisco were normal in this time and it had taken Chris days to school himself into acting surprised if a building did indeed catch fire, or if a mugging took place...

In his time, he would try and help, hide a gesture that would result in the mugger tripping, allowing the handbags owner to catch up and reclaim their items, other times, if he was close enough, he might ever aim a punch of kick in the robber's direction, but in most cases, he walked on by, just like everyone else. There was no point getting involved, especially if the robber was working for Wyatt.

Yes it was true, his brother had not only lowered himself to demonic standards but also those of a common thief. A twisted version or Robin Hood, stealing from the poor-which was everyone- and giving to the-no, just keeping it for himself. Asshole. He completely ignored any morals imbedded within him, having been turned many, many years ago. Chris had been so close to finding out what had done it, his contacts were paying more attention to his warnings of painful death should they not come up with answers, and Chris was not one for idle threats, he had demonstrated as such many times.

Being cautious was a necessity, and if it meant one more person got their handbag taken so that he could remain in hiding, then so be it. Sometimes, Chris even hated himself for it...

He walked through the alleyways, knowing how to get to his mothers old club without being seen. Hiding in the shadows, he saw it. Run-down and abandoned, the sign above the door chipped and cracked but amazingly enough, still intact. He recalled how not so long ago the sign had been lit up, and he would weave his way through the crowd as he went for his room in the back office.

The door had been boarded up, understandably. After magic had been completely exposed people rarely left their homes, they certainly didn't have time for clubbing. Chris himself, had made the decision. It only cost more money to go down there each day to switch on the lights, and time he couldn't waste on dusting the bar.

Since Piper had been the eldest, and she had owned the Manor she had left it to her two sons. As well as P3. Sadly, Wyatt had overtaken the manor. Destroying their home, sterilizing it, and had completely forgotten about P3. Chris had taken it upon himself to take care of the once booming night club.

He reached out at the wood, touching it gingerly, knowing how obvious it would look if the wood had been torn away, and unable to orb without his brother, or worse, a probe, sensing him, he walked round to the side, heaved himself on top of the nearby wall, and jumped into the back alley that was part of P3. He landed hard on his feet, his ankles burning as he fell forward, un-gracefully and rolled.

He sighed, pushing himself up and walking as quickly as his painful ankles would allow towards the back door of the club. This was door was not boarded up, Chris saw no reason to. He looked around, then settled on the small coaster on the ground, concealed by the odd crate where deliveries had once been. He lifted it up, and smiled at the jagged key. Taking it in his hand, he walked back over to the door, and opened it. It creaked horribly, but Chris didn't care. The musky smell of old liquor and dust reached his nostrils, enough to make him cough, but it was familiar, and that was all he cared about.

He stepped in to the darkness, and confidently walked to the back office, having walked there so many times in this future and the past, he knew his way even in the dark.

He looked at the desk, over thirty years old, and still standing. He reached out to the black draw at the bottom of the desk. One he had magically locked to conceal his identity should Piper feel the urge to look. He hadn't taken it off in the past, and knew that despite his mother's curiosity, if she had wanted to open it, she would have done so with a hammer. But the desk was still intact.

He opened it gingerly and found to his surprise the few things he had placed in there, were still there. His wallet, complete with money for necessities, a few clothes articles he had bought at a bargain store in the past, rolled up into balls and what he was looking for; A candle and a pair of matches. He had _borrowed_ the candle from the Manor, the sisters had so many it was no wonder they didn't notice the white column of wax was missing. The matches had been in his jean pocket as he stepped through the portal.

He grabbed the candle and lit it carefully, knowing he would need the light and he strolled over to one of the stools in the main room.

He sat at the bar, stretching his shoulders from the slight ache in them, longing to sleep but he was in Wyatt's territory now; it wasn't safe to sleep, not even for a moment. God, he had taken so many things for granted in the past, even if he was dead on his feet most of the time from lack of sleep, so determined was he to find out what turned his brother, he had still rested more there than here. He stood on the metal bar that connected across the chairs legs and reached for the nearest glass. Blowing into it, and cleaning it best he could with his shirt he then stretched across the counter for whatever alcohol was closest.

It just happened to be the whisky, something he had never really savored the taste for, but it would serve its purpose. He drank it with a strange ease, letting the liquid settle on his tongue before swallowing, gulping, it down. He took a moment to look around, most of the bottles were smashed, but the boards he had put it before venturing into the past had served their purpose and managed to keep most of the looters away, for that much, he was glad.

* * *

"Let's see, summoning didn't work..." Paige said, throwing down the pad she had been doodling on for the past ten minutes.

"Well it wouldn't, he's not in the same time as us." Phoebe clarified.

"Right, and seeing as he didn't have time to give us any floorboard-clues, it looks like there's only one other option."

"We have to get him ourselves."

Paige nodded.

"We could write the spell to get there, only..."

"Only what, Paige?"

"Well, you're still a genie, and you kinda stick out, shouldn't we sort this out first?"

Phoebe looked away for a moment, well aware of her present state, and duties as a Charmed One, but her loyalty lay with her family, and right now, Chris needed her.

"I know Paige, but we don't have time to find the demon, we don't know what could already be happening to Chris, we just-we just have to take the risk."

Paige smiled, glad that her sister had chosen what her heart told her was the best thing to do.

"So we're gonna need some paper, a pen, and a pretty warm coat."

"Warm coat?" Phoebe asked, following her sister out of the room.

"Yeah," Paige replied, looking her sister up and down and indicated her almost naked flesh with her finger. "Don't want you catching frost-bite, now do we?"

* * *

Chris stared at the flame on the candle, flickering, that shook each time he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the dread inside of him to come to pass and as he did so another set of lights came on. Chris looked up at the glowing lamps attached to the ceiling, then back at the bottom of the stairs where the light switches were. He looked at the visitor for a moment, trying to discern what he knew of the future and what he had seen in the past.

"I heard you were back." Darryl said carefully, keeping his tone neutral as his fingers trailed along the bar, making his way through the dust to Chris, who had yet to greet him.

"Oh really? Let me guess, Darren told you." He said, grumbling, not pleased that someone had indeed gotten past his wooden barricades on the doors. Darryl didn't answer.

"How'd it go?" He asked simply, and Chris tried to pretend he didn't find the question odd, telling himself that seeing as the topic was far from normal that a mortal coming up with a just question was rare to begin with.

"What do you mean?" He replied cryptically, and Darryl rolled his eyes.

"Did you do it?"

And Chris knew of what he spoke.

"Does it look like I did it, Darryl?" He said, gesturing to the mess of P3, and the tip of a world outside it's walls. Darryl nodded, and smiled.

Wait, _smiled_?

Chris frowned noticeably, before changing tactics, aware that something was wrong. "So," He said, as though trying to dispel this particular conversation and its train wreck of a result, "How's Darryl junior?" And for a moment, he thought he would be ignored forever. That was when he heard it. Darryl saying his son was fine. And that damn smile was back.

Darryl was saying his son was fine, when three weeks before he had left for the past he had been the one to tell him his son was dead. Darryl was saying his son was fine, when three weeks before he had left the resistance in his Uncle's hands, he and Darryl Junior had been attacked brutally by demons, and for all of his power, Chris had been unable to save the man only a few years older than himself.

Darryl was saying his son was fine, when Chris could still remember the pain he had felt as he carried the body back, bleeding from his own grave wounds but not caring as he held the burden of death in his arms. He remembered he had been wounded bad enough for an Elder to dare come down and heal him, before returning to the cordoned off heavens. He had been an inch from death, and he hadn't even flinched.

He had flinched at the mother's shriek, and he had cried inside when he saw Darryl and his wife fall to the ground in grief as the body was taken from Chris, and he too fell, from exhaustion and pain, and was taken to the make shift infirmary they had in place.

And the longer the silence dwelled, the more Chris knew something was wrong, the more "Darryl" knew he had been made, and there was no point denying it any longer. Chris jumped up from his stool, knocking it down in the process as he flicked out his wrist and the man went flying into the wall, winded, before getting up and grinning. Sneering with that damn smile of his.

"I knew you wouldn't stay away for long." The demon taunted, in a voice that to Chris was vaguely familiar, and he ducked from the sudden fireball thrown his way, and he stared in shocked horror as Darryl's face melted away like a snake shedding its skin, and in its place, its true form. A demon, but not just any old kills-for-kicks demon, oh no, this was Aruth. A ruthless upper-level demon and Wyatt's right hand man, or rather, half man-half creature that Chris had yet to deduce he originated from. His skin was reptile-like, but his appearance, and calm anger, made the humanity that loitered in his veins all the more easier to see.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Oh please Chris, your mother's club? You're predictable and self-deprecating. It makes sense that you would come here to drown your sorrows."

Chris growled at the insults being thrown his way, steeling himself against the urge to retort. No point in provoking someone who was already out for your blood.

"Don't make me hurt you, Chris."

"No, wouldn't want to spoil Wyatt's fun."

"You know he only does what he has to, to keep you in line."

Chris scoffed. Truth be told, Aruth had the most respect out of all of them, he would never question his orders, and he would deal with them swiftly, but he took no pleasure in anything he did. His human side held too much guilt as it was, and he had always taken a liking to Chris' strong resolve against Wyatt. He found it amusing that this boy, this shaggy haired boy, lanky, but strong, had the guts to take on his brother, leader of the Underworld and general bad-ass when demons, _demons_ dare not.

Chris began making his way to the exit, when Aruth lunged, not allowing this prey to get away, or it would be his own head on a stick. "What's the point, Chris?"

Aruth asked calmly, as Chris once again tried to buck from underneath Aruth's hold as he straddled the man on the ground. "Get off of me." He gritted out, using his own telekinetic push against the enemy but it still not being enough. In a moment of stupidity on Aruth's part, the grip was lessened around his legs, enough to aim a kick at the demon's groin. He fell back, stunned, and Chris jumped to his feet.

"Damn it, Chris!" Aruth screamed as he threw a high power fire ball in the man's direction, the flames flying through the air before hitting its target, Chris, smack bang in the back. He fell like a broken doll, writhing in pain on the ground as blood seeped from the burning wound. He was in agony and every movement was protested against by his burning spine. Aruth got up off of the floor, dusting down his garments, and made his way over to Chris' body. Wyatt's orders, though granted they had been given before the whole Bianca fiasco, had been to not gravely injure his brother. A title he would not quickly forget, every demon knew. Aruth knew he would not be punished, but it didn't serve him well to not listen either. Not to mention the guilt once again festering within.

"Come on, your brother will be more than pleased to see you." He said with a grim tone, as he grabbed the boy and shimmered both of them away, back to Wyatt.

**Can you say: Mwahahahahaha?**

**Now review, or you'll never know what happens!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Nope nada, zip, zilch, happy? Now go**

**I know, I know, I know, I know, please don't scream at me, I'm ill as it is.**

**The next one won't be as short, or take as long, I just want to get the whole mass-reunion right. **

**Chapter 7**

The attic, for all its fineries, was surprisingly bland. More so, Phoebe thought, as she waited for her sister to finish. They were running out of ideas, with no idea how to get to the future without the Elders help, and seeing as it was them that sent their nephew back to a war-zone where he was wanted by a tyrant...

Both sisters tried very hard not to think of the cruel man as being one of the same that now sat in a baby chair, happily being fed by his mother as he wiggled his legs beneath the small pull away table. Banging his fists against the white surface to show his affection for the baby mush the rest of the Halliwell's cringed at. Phoebe looked back over at her younger sister Paige, as she bent over and scribbled notes onto various pieces of paper, and Phoebe absently flicked through the Book of Shadows, though they had long read through any page that could be of help. Before realizing they weren't any.

"Aha!" Paige cried, muffled by the pen top still in her mouth, which she quickly removed, embarrassed and showed her sister the spell. Phoebe looked down at the scrawled words on the scrap piece of paper with some trepidation, and eyed her sister curiously, wondering why it had taken her so long to come up with this. To add emphasis to her lack of impressed emotions, she read them out aloud, hoping it would be enough for Paige to notice her forte was not in spell writing. Not stopping when Paige herself joined in.

"_Chris is lost  
__Through time and space  
__Help us find him  
__Then return us all back to this day and place."_

Phoebe stared at her with a quirked eyebrow, "That has gotta be the worst spell I have ever-." A blue light in the shape of a triquetra illuminated the wall and Phoebe stopped. "No way." She muttered under her breath while Paige beamed.

"You were saying?" She said, before stepping through. For a moment, Phoebe looked back towards the attic door, wondering if she should at least leave a note, but then she recalled the fights, the betrayal, and merely pulled the jacket closer around her and stepped through.

To her shock, amazement, and sheer relief, her worst fear that the jacket would somehow get lost in the whirlwind of time was found to have no basis as she still clutched is just as tightly as she had in the past.

But, she noted, with even more happiness and relief, she had no need for it. Her hair was brown, and short, while she still wore her scarf from that morning and pink top and trousers.

"Oh sweet mother of God, I'm me!"

"Yeah, that's great, Pheebs." Paige muttered, having noticed her sister's appearance and pushing it to the back of her mind as she looked around her. "Notice anything?"

"Like what?"

"Uh, like it was barely mid-day when we left, and now it's pitch black night?"

"So much for your great spell," She ignored the glare. "How many hours do you think we were off?"

"Hours, well I'd say its more like a few days! Not to mention the whole twenty years."

"Yes okay, I get it, no need to take that tone..." And then she took a moment to look around her. To take in the attic and it's strangely clinical look. Clean but cold, set out, every item posed carefully. They barely had a chance to gape before a demon shimmered in, human in appearance, but clearly possessing a brute strength neither which had.

Phoebe let out a cry as she ducked from an energy ball and her sister quickly called it toward her and shot it back at the demon in question. He saw the orbs engulf his weapon and regarded it with a confused gaze. They had destroyed all of the Whitelighters, hadn't they? But his query was short lived as the energy ball did its work and he burst into flames, crumbling into dust.

"I think we should leave." Paige said, holding out a hand for her older sister to take, about to orb away when Phoebe stopped her with her eyes. "What is it?" Paige asked quickly and Phoebe pursed her lips, looking around her. "That demon knew we were here, he knew."

"Maybe he got lucky?"

"Oh please, Paige, there must be some kind of magical alarm. We can't risk orbing."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Front door?"

* * *

He woke up with a groan, as he tried to lift his heavy head off of the hard surface. To say he was groggy was an understatement as memories of capture rushed back to him, that was then followed by the distinct tilting of his vision as he dared crack open an eyelid and survey the situation he was now knee-deep in.

The situation that made him cringe, and swear beneath his breath all at once. The kind that made fear clutch at his heart as he looked ahead of him at the wall. He looked behind him, at the wall, and to the sides, more walls. He was boxed in like an animal. With barely enough room to move his legs. He was curled into a ball, lying on his side, no doubt thanks to Aruth as he jammed the unconscious body into the stow-away area.

The fire-ball thrown at him had knocked him out after the first few spasms of agony, and he had no idea where he was.

His neck was cracking each time he moved, the awkward angle making his bones ache. His hands were bound so tightly that he could no longer feel them, only the chafing, the burning of the thick rope biting into his wrists. His feet were tied in the same fashion and he noted with a grunt of annoyance, that his mouth was gagged by a stinking rag, tied tightly and pinching against his cheeks. He tried to pull at his bonds, but only served to make his muscles cramp awkwardly. He pulled at his wrists and as his shoulders heaved forward, he inhaled the stench of the gag and fought the urge to puke.

It would do him no good to choke on his own sick and he battled the nausea, focusing instead on pulling his hands free first. He jerked forward too quickly and his forearms hit back and he screamed through the gag, ignoring any nausea as stray pieces of dirty material fell onto his tongue. His back was burning, literally, and he could feel the dampness of his shirt, no doubt bright red.

This was not good, not good at all.

He thought to himself, still pulling at his ever resistant bonds when suddenly the top of his box, crate, opened and light shone in, assaulting his eyes, making him squint, and try to refocus, as strong burly arms grabbed him, yanking him harshly, and throwing him onto the ground. For a second Chris breathed in cleaner air, no longer filtered through wood, but then his breathing became more ragged as his slow body let the pain catch up with him.

The demon, not Aruth himself but one of his followers, with red skin and tattoos burnt into his skin, had pulled hard enough on Chris' arm to loosen it from its socket, and as he was thrown harshly to the floor, it had completely dislocated. The sound was horrifying, but it scared Chris more when the agony washed over him, and once again the filthy gag muffled the cry he could not stop. He was pulled onto his feet suddenly, but in his weakened state was unable to keep upright and quickly began to fall. Rather than rescue Chris, the demon waited for him to hit the ground for the second time, effectively jarring his shoulder and silencing him into unconsciousness as he was dragged away.

"He's still out?" Aruth asked curiously, as the demon dropped the arm he had used to rake Chris along. The same arm, coincidentally, that to Aruth's trained eyes, was injured. He raised his eyebrow, and stepped forward, hissing, "You weren't supposed to hurt him." But the demon only shrugged in response. "It was an accident."

Aruth scoffed, aware that seldom were the acts of demon's under Wyatt's power accident's. They couldn't afford them, they feared the consequences accidents would bring.

"Is Lord Wyatt on the way, sir?"

For a moment Aruth remembered the little manners demons of the past held, and granted any demon's who didn't show the polite use of 'sir's' were promptly taught a lesson never to be forgotten, it still made him wary, as though a great foreboding was hanging over his head.

"Yes," A voice from the doorway. Aruth span around, while his demonic helper, a lesser demon of course, flew to the floor, bowing at the Master of the Underworld, and _over_, as he stood so near.

"Lord Wyatt, what an honour-."

His mumblings were cut off as the great muscular form stepped closer to the crouching figure, as Aruth watched from a distance. Still standing. Having earned enough unwanted respect to not need to show it in groveling.

The blonde tyrant, once thought to be the world's saviour, stood, letting intimidation win as his boots were all that could be seen. His black thick boots. All the better to kick you with. He looked back at Chris for a moment, nothing more than a crumpled heap on the ground, his legs curled beneath him, one arm doing the same while the other jutted out at an angle, and his face was contorted with pain.

"Did you hurt him?" The cold unfeeling man asked, his voice echoing slightly with his stature and need to bellow all he spoke. Aruth rolled his eyes behind Wyatt, well aware that his "Master" had heard his own question moments before. The demon began spluttering excuses, but Wyatt simply muttered under his breath words of demon predictability and unreliability, waved his hand dramatically, too much so, and the demon was no more than a pile of ash on the ground.

* * *

The fact that her older, seemingly more perceptive sister had suggested the obvious made Paige cringe as she followed the careful footsteps of the empath in front of her. They made their way through the house carefully, quietly, and above all, quickly, taking it upon themselves to run like hell after picking the door open—no longer possessing a key that would work.

"Ok so you're home, your brother is out to get you and you have no idea how much you've changed. Where do you go?" Phoebe said aloud to her sister, as they walked the dilapidated streets of San Fransisco, keeping alert as they strayed in the dark.

"Somewhere safe, somewhere familiar." Paige said absent mindedly, still following her sister.

"Ah, but you don't know familiar, and judging by the looks of things, you don't know safe, either." Phoebe said, knocking down Paige's input.

"Ok then, I'd go to someone I trust."

"And they exist?"

"Sure they do. I mean I came-_Chris_ came to the past, he must have had help." Paige said, changing her tense as it became more confusing.

"But she died, remember?" Phoebe said quietly, referring to the Phoenix.

"You mean Bianca?"

Phoebe nodded and Paige swallowed. They had no idea where Chris might be. This was going to be difficult. _Very_ difficult.

**Please Review, no flaming, no screaming, I beg of you**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I hear it's being axed, and a very nifty spoiler has caught my attention.**

**The last chapter was too short for my liking, so this one's a hell of a lot longer. As always, thank you to everyone who reviewed and please do so again!**

**Chapter 8**

He picked himself up off of the ground. So far he had been relatively lucky, if such a thing could be called lucky. Torture, capture, certainly wasn't lucky...

But still having a pulse, a beating heart, and a conscious mind, was.

He had been lucky as a child. He had a family, friends, he'd felt love, and he'd loved in return. And even when the streets crumbled and the world fell, still in the rubble, he found love again, in the most unlikely place, no doubt, but love all the same. He had grown up, and his powers grew with him, every few days using it to his advantage, but still weary of his family's lectures on personal gain, that Wyatt always ignored despite his kid brother's whiny protests. _"I'll tell mom and dad."_

"_Go ahead."_

And that had made sure he did nothing of the sort. The fact that his brother didn't care made Chris wonder if it was even worth telling. A part of him, the self-deprecating part that resembled the confidence of a forgotten toy, a broken doll, always wondered if he had said something, if he had done something earlier on, maybe the world wouldn't be so bad.

It was the part of him that doubted everything, and found it so hard to trust others.

It was the part that reminded him of all he had lost.

It was the part of him that made sure enemies stayed clear of the innocent, and it was the part that knew he had to do something. It was the part that ever thought going to the past stood a chance, even if that part of him did question every move he made while there.

It was the part of him, the little boy, that screamed for attention from his parents. Screamed for the pride that shone in their eyes only when regarding the golden child, Wyatt. The pride he longed to witness, and strived to deserve. His body ached furiously, but he was used to pain, this was not his first capture, and it angered him to realize this. How many times would Wyatt drag his ass back here and try to lecture the great things joining him would get? How many times would he let himself be dragged back?

He growled at himself, looking around. He had woken up here, in this cell. And he recalled vaguely being dragged there, but being as he was, he had feigned sleep, or rather, unconsciousness, to get a better bearing of where he was. Instead it merely made for a trickle of intense fear at hearing his brother's voice, underestimating him.

"Are we still on track for the attacks?"

_Still up to your old tricks, I see,_ Chris thought grimly as he kept his breathing shallow.

"Yes sir," An unfamiliar voice broke in, and Chris heard feet shuffling, his brother's boots turning on another.

"Aruth, you have seen him, how is he?"

They were talking about Chris, but the wounded captive knew better than to let himself be fooled. Wyatt was not concerned for his welfare, far from it, oh no, he wanted to know how his powers were working, how his training fared, had he let his guard down at all. How easy would he be to break. And Aruth replied vaguely; "Not good. He is wounded, and I seriously doubt he is much of a threat. The attack is futile, we cannot post-pone."

And Wyatt knew that much, while Chris cringed, unsure of what indeed the attack was, though it had become a habit. Chris had seen first hand that when at least five people in one area where known for having thoughts so un-regal toward the Lord of the Underworld, the entire place was attacked. First in the night, as warnings, but Chris supposed that much had already happened, then the main attack would include a visit from Wyatt himself. Intimidation tactic that worked like a charm. Shuffling filled his ears once more as he was left.

Since then he had managed to work out some, all be it little, information. The number of guards there were dwindling and he knew for a fact the one outside the door at this very moment was a young man, a Witch, and he had been guarding without stop for rest, or food, for almost a day since he had truly woken up. And Chris knew that meant his powers would be sluggish, a perfect chance for escape. He took a deep breath, aware that the Witch could most likely sense if he was lying and decided to use an old trick of his, glad that his legs were no longer bound, though something told him, it was not Wyatt who had allowed such a thing.

If they could sense pain, then he would have to make it believable, and he knew Wyatt didn't want him dead before he had the chance to play. He maneuvered his bound wrists at first. He had been working on them for some time, using small cracks of rock in the walls to help saw through the rope, and it was fraying quite well. As soon as he felt them come close, he flung his arms toward his back, bracing himself, and steeling himself not to stop the cry of pain. It had to be real, it had to hurt.

His wrists slammed into the festering wound on his back, his knuckles drove into his skin, and were coated with the slowing liquid still leaving him. He gritted his teeth at first before remembering to let out a low cry that steadily got louder. He clutched his eyes closed, and for a fleeting moment he feared it had all been in vain, when the door creaked open and in rushed the Witch. He was young, and when Chris opened his eyes, keeping them as glazed as he could, he almost felt bad. There was a small tug, and the rope snapped, the sound, confusing the Witch long enough the Chris to find his throat and push down hard, knocking him out as the breath left the man.

Chris' head fell back against the wall as he panted for a moment before twisting his body so that he was kneeling and taking deep breaths. He stumbled to his feet, his knees clicking awkwardly and his back aching still as he stumbled out of the cell.

It was deserted and it annoyed Chris to think his brother had gone to all of this trouble, and now it was so easy to escape. Maybe it was to prove a point? That Wyatt really didn't care about him anymore, but that made no sense, why get him in the first place? Unless he simply wanted an excuse to give a final order without resurfacing guilt. If Chris was running, after being warned of trying to escape, then execution, and murder were inevitable. It worried Chris that his assessment of the situation could well be confused for anticipation of his own death. And that couldn't be good.

The blood had slowed to a mere trickle as he walked, stumbled, and only once fell through the barren hallways. It was silent save for his shuffling. He took a moment to close his eyes and sense for the enemy and just as he'd suspected, Wyatt wasn't even close. The attack was under way, and there was barely anyone left. Hell, they had left a young naïve Witch in charge of a highly dangerous captive.

_Though Wyatt obviously doesn't think so. _

Damn him. He always found a way to make Chris feel inferior even when he wasn't in the bloody room, which fueled Chris' attempts to try and leave. Wyatt didn't know that one of his demon buddies, now deceased, had revealed the inside of his domain, nor did he know of the blueprints the resistance feared to have in their possession. He was as naïve as the next guy, which amused Chris. He was walking through a known territory, and he could find his way out, easily. And he did. The doors were just where they were supposed to be, locked of course, barricaded no doubt, but he didn't care if he got caught. He would run for all he cared, and if Wyatt sensed it then Wyatt sensed it, he just needed solace. Hell, he knew the spell, could remember it well enough, he just needed to get to the attic and everything would be fine.

Aruth had told them he was weak, and Wyatt had taken that stupidly, decided not to take up his own power in ensuring no orbing would take place, not to mention it could backfire should Wyatt need to sable in the light arts himself. Chris orbed to the last place he had truly been able to feel happiness in this evil future, and fell back onto the white stone bench in the crumbling gardens as he arrived at his destination. Unaware that he was far from alone.

* * *

"Can you sense anything?" Phoebe asked her sister, and Paige gave her a pointed look, "Can you?"

"Okay, okay, good point."

And silence was back as both concentrated.

"Maybe," Paige began, "Maybe it isn't enough, maybe we need to combine our powers."

"We've already tried that and we couldn't sense Chris."

"No, maybe not to sense him, I mean," She gulped, "If Wyatt has him, then he's bound to try and hide him." The words were spoken softly, telling of their fears. Phoebe waited and Paige complied and continued. "So, you can sense feelings, even lingering ones?" Phoebe nodded, "And Chris, he loved Bianca, right?"

"You have got to make your points faster, Paige."

"They were here, in this future, they loved in this future, and if it was that strong, your bound to feel something, right?"

"Ah, well, um."

"We have to try."

Together they sifted through it all, the pain that would have over come her had Paige not been holding her arm, helping her, guiding her as all good Whitelighters do, even those half-Witches, and, aherm, those in need of serious attitude adjustments. Mainly Leo and his Elder buddies.

"Concentrate." Paige muttered, hearing the bitter thoughts of a worried Aunt as clear as day as they held their minds together in a fragile bond. They continued to search, through despair and focusing on any kind of love they had felt, searching for the signature of happiness that was easier to find in a world of hurting. Like a beacon, they felt it, the sadness that it was now lost, and the soft imprints it had left. Phoebe squeezed Paige's arm, and she orbed them there instantly before the feelings were lost.

"Chris?" Incredulous, staring at the desolate man hunched over on the bench.

"Chris!"

"Over here!" They couldn't believe it, finally they had found him, and now only a short distance stood between them. Chris span around, his face incredulous beneath the faint bruising not yet covering his cheeks as it soon would. Leaving his ghostly complexion free for his Aunts to worry over.

"What are you doing here?" He cried, though finding it hard to keep the relief out his voice, beginning to edge toward them, sadly enough throwing caution to the wind.

"We're here to save you, duh, now come on!" Paige answered, before she was suddenly cut off by a harsh grip around her throat.

Two demons now held the two Witches, and try as she might, Paige couldn't orb. Both struggled, and only continued to do so with more fury as they saw even more demon's advancing upon them

"No!" Chris cried, seeing the enemy's advance on his Aunts. Feeling his heart in his throat, and his stomach drop as he saw the danger now so clear. The three demons's not holding captives span around at the call, staring at Chris.

"I'm the one you want, Aruth, leave them." He said bravely, hiding the fear from his shaken voice as he called out to one of his brother's best commanders. The best, and his concern amplified at knowing he was holding his Aunt's lives in his hands. He had brought them to the future and he had orbed, and now they were in danger, and he couldn't let anything happen to them, not even to save his life, unaware that it was his Aunt's combined orbing that pin pointed his location, rather than just his own.

The two demons flanking their Master seemed skeptical and eyed up the two females once more, while the burliest one, Aruth, edged closer to Chris, looking him up and down. "You really should stop this, it's getting tiresome." The demon said in a bored tone as he grabbed Chris by the arm, making a cry emit from the boy as his dislocated shoulder was pulled ruthlessly. The demons only sneered, and Aruth, his face passive still, said, turning to his followers. "Leave them; we have what we came for."

And the two Halliwell sisters could only watch as the three demons shimmered away with their wounded nephew.

* * *

Time came to a standstill as they processed what they had seen. Chris was wounded, barely standing, and once again he had put himself in the line of fire to save their lives, and now they were left roaming the future racking their brains for a way to have him returned to them. They had left the gardens, the demonic glares forcing them to, and now they were avoiding anyone and everyone. They needed help, from others, but who could they trust in this god forsaken world?

"Okay, so we know Chris came here, and he's against Wyatt, and it makes sense that other people would be against him too, right?" Phoebe voiced, surprised at how calm she managed to sound.

"Like some kind of revolt?" Paige queried, earning a nod from her sister.

"Yeah, a resistance."

"But we don't know where it would be, we don't know where to start looking."

"No, but come on, Paige, we're Charmed Ones, when has that ever stopped us?" Phoebe asked, smiling somewhat, in a hushed tone. Paige agreed, urging for her sister to continue.

"If I try and sense for Chris, or where Chris has been, and you focus on arriving at a resistance, then maybe we can find it together?"

Paige frowned, but otherwise seemed all for the idea as she held out her hand, and both of them focused on arriving at their destination.

"Who the hell are you?" The surprised resistant members asked as Paige orbed herself as close as they could get. Unable to arrive inside of the resistance and anti-anything spell preventing them from doing so.

It was no secret that the Elders had effectively abandoned their children, and any Whitelighters alive were in hiding, shunning their powers in hopes of keeping alive. Though they were already dead...

So to say two women orbing in, seemingly familiar to most of the magical community was a shock, was a pretty big understatement.

* * *

He could hear the fighting outside, and he already knew the Witch who had failed to keep in his cell was dead for his lack of abilities when it came to keeping one man inside the 4x4 room. One more death to add to the list, he supposed, one more guilty-burden to add to his burning back, aching shoulders, and breaking spirit. He groaned, his forearms were bound tightly behind him, unable to break free, and as soon as he heard the door creak open and shuffling feet, he wasn't surprised when something sat on him, hard. His brother, ever the bastard when it came to giving in, commanding him to call out, "Uncle," as he wheezed was _sitting_ on him.

"How fucking juvenile." His brother's response to the jibe, something he actually missed enough to allow no gag to be replaced, was to let his knees dig into Chris' kidneys as he pushed his brother's face hard into the stone concrete floor. His chest was crushed, and he could only wheeze as he tried to breathe. His vision darkened with black spots for a moment, and delirium was indeed winning.

"It isn't too late, Chris-."

He snorted.

"Join me, and all of the pain will go away."

He snorted once more, biting back a groanat the pain.

"You're on the losing team, Chris, just say you'll be on my side. We can work together to make this world better."

He laughed, snorted, and laughed a little more.

"You think this is funny!"

Maybe he shouldn't have laughed when Wyatt asked once again if he would join him. Maybe he shouldn't have roared with laughter...or mocked the regime.

Wyatt grabbed his arms, throwing his brother over onto his back, the weight of the younger man's body slamming into his arms, earning a cry of alarm and pain. "Well do you!" He said, grabbing the dark locks and shoving the head into the ground. "Damn you, Christopher, damn you." Wyatt muttered as he got up, "I didn't want to do this, but you leave me no choice, can't you see that?" He almost sounded regretful as he left Chris alone in the dungeon once again, pondering those last words, and a hint of warning. _Talk about foreboding_, he thought to himself, as he waited for the inevitable.

* * *

Questions were shot from every direction, and as soon as it was discerned they had no weapons save for Paige's powers, and weren't exactly covered in the shadow of darkness brought on by evil intentions, they were let in to the stronghold Chris had helped keep safe. And Phoebe, never one for tact in the best of situations, had had enough of the staring. "Okay, has a guy been here? Tall, dark hair, goes by the name of Chris?"

Paige would have hit her had she not seen the sudden tension rising in the room, mainly from those who recognized two out of the three great Charmed Ones. No one spoke, no one dared, but one girl, short, with brown hair tied back in a bun, stepped forward, allegiance to old friends giving her enough courage. "He was here," She said quietly.

"What do you mean?" Phoebe asked her tone dangerously low, she got the distinct impression of how bad things must be, for the silence to remain stoic. The girl stepped backwards, intimidated by the Charmed One.

"Was Chris here?" Paige asked and the girl directed her attention to the younger Witch.

"Yes, he was here, but-."

"But what! You just turned him away!" Phoebe cried out, finally able to let go of her own fear to allow other emotions in, them being the telltale ones of all those around her. Empathic ability one, resistance nil.

"Yes!" A sudden voice growled from the doorway. The two Witches of 2004 span around at the newcomer.

"He's been gone for months, and nothing! What's to say he ever went to the past, how do we know Wyatt didn't get to him first!" The burly man asked, his muscles showing clearly from the green vest top he wore, and Phoebe knew not to like him, or trust him, because he was trying far too hard to hide something, an event, something he had done to their nephew that she couldn't quite see, or feel rather.

"What the hell are you talking about? Of course he came to the past, we're here aren't we?" Paige cried, indicating her and her sister.

"And as far as I can tell, we don't exactly exist in this future." Phoebe quipped, annoyed.

"How do we know you're not another one of Wyatt's tricks?" He asked angrily, loud enough to mask the small sound of orbing in the corridor.

"You don't, but cross us and you might find out how much power two Charmed Ones pack!" Paige's outburst earned her a respected look from Phoebe and startled ones from those around her.

"They're real, step back Darren." Another male voice spoke up from doorway, filled with melancholy. He stepped into the light, earning gasps from Paige and Phoebe, glad to see a familiar face, though still angry at his fault in the situation they were now in.

"Leo," Paige breathed, stepping forward, feeling slightly safer in the presence of the Elder. Though his robe was singed and muddy, and his face was set in a sad frown, it was still their ex brother in law.

* * *

The punch had come without warning, save for him provoking a very stressed out Source. He had greeted him as perky as he could muster, almost mimicking the caretaker of the museum he had encountered a few times in the past, and Wyatt had seen it rightly as an insult, and right now, he had a reputation to uphold and would not be taking that from his baby brother. Not now, not ever.

Chris watched the black robes flowing down to the gravelled surface of the ground, as someone else stepped in behind Wyatt, he saw the white hair shining, and the glint in his eye as they caught the nearby firelight on the cavern walls, dancing as the flames made shadows appear. The grin was unmistakable, he knew of this demon. One his family had vanquished many a-time. He had even seen him thanks to Wyatt and his museum projections.

He knew the face from the Book of Shadows, even if he hadn't seen its pages since-since Bianca had given him the courage to do so, and he hadn't flicked through them for so long before then.

Chris laughed, once again earning a glare from his older brother, as he spat the blood from his split lip into the ground as he did so. "You resurrected a demon?" He asked, surprised at his brother's own stupidity, after all, this demon had a track record of besting their family. Even if they too had a reputation for besting him right back.

"So you're Christopher?" The voice, so smooth and silky; was making his skin crawl, ignoring the younger Halliwell's words as he stooped down low. Chris gritted his teeth as a hand took hold of his chin, and he spat the words venomously as he said the hated demon's name.

"Barbas."

**What do you mean, evil? I'm just having a little fun!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Like you don't already know**

**Okay sorry doesn't cut it, _seriously_...**

**Chapter 9**

Barbas circled him, and for almost an hour he simply stared, as though searching for the perfect attack method, Wyatt came and went several times, but after a whisper from the demon, he returned with another. Chris felt his heart drop, his stomach like lead as he saw her.

"Jen?"

She didn't answer, she was too scared, shaking in fear. She wasn't supposed to be here, she was supposed to be safe, far away, had she even gotten to the house? Or was everything so ruined that even that, his last stronghold was lost to his brother?

_No! This isn't real! It's Barbas' doing, just, don't, listen!_

But Wyatt was breathing down her neck, and her gaze cast downward. It had to be real, didn't it? He ached all over, he felt weak, and his knees were so close to bucking, but he stayed upright, for her.

"Join me," He hissed into her ear, and she flinched in the other direction, aware that running, hell moving, wasn't an option but jerking her head all the same. She fastened her gaze on Chris, and suddenly, he felt the world shake beneath him. Her eyes weren't scared, they were accusing. Accusing him for letting this happen, for not stopping his brother...

Wyatt didn't let her reply, he didn't want her, and he was only taunting her, taunting _him_.

"_No!"_ He screamed, as Wyatt's hands grabbed her head, large fingers on porcelain skin, gripping her cheeks, and with a snap, the accusations were covered by the shroud of death making her blind forever.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" He asked as they sat down on the cold benches in one of the empty rooms along the huge corridor. "You being here is dangerous, no one should know too much about the future…" He trailed off.

"Well it's your fault we're even here," Paige muttered, but when Leo looked up to question her, Phoebe shrugged, making it seem of no-importance even though it was.

"We're looking for Chris."

"If you're from 2004 he hasn't been born yet." He said, having found out from Jen most of the details, before she had been shown the door and tossed out onto the street, of how long ago they had arrived from.

"Your Chris, from this time, you know where he's been, right?"

Leo sighed. He hadn't been told directly, he hadn't been around to be told. He was a full time Elder, not coming down for anything anymore, even when he heard the begging calls of those down below. Chris, however, had stopped calling a long time ago.

The Elders had been slaughtered, surprised as a great number of demons had somehow orbed into the Heavens, catching them off guard. Leo had escaped because of Chris. The younger man had been informed of the attack by a taunting messenger from the Underworld and had instantly orbed up there. Having to telekinetically re-direct lightning bolts to the nearest demon when they came flying at him, the Elder in question mistaking him for another demon.

He had tried, more than his best, but when he knew it was a losing battle Chris had grabbed his father's arm, orbing him away to headquarters.

"He saved me, I wasn't grateful at the time." He muttered thinking of the memories currently invading his mind. Phoebe looked at him, wanting answers.

"We, The Elders, were attacked; there were so many demons, over three-quarters of the Underworld. It was impossible, we were falling like flies, and then Chris, he came and orbed me away."

"Why couldn't you before?"

"There was some kind of barrier, but only for Elders, Chris could come in easily, so could the demons." He added bitterly.

"How did the demons get in?" Paige asked.

"Orbing."

"What? But that's impossible! I mean, how?"

"Wyatt." There was no anger in the tone, nor pride, it was empty as though Leo had long practiced the need to feel nothing for the murderous man that had once been his Golden Child.

"When we arrived, I was angry, I didn't want to leave the other Elders, but I couldn't orb in and Chris refused to take me back."

"_Chris I mean it!"_

"_No! I am NOT going to let you go back up there just so you can die on the spot!"_

"_I can take care of myself!" _

"_Yeah 'cause you were doing such a swell job of it right then! One of the Elders almost killed me as a mistake! Don't you think they'd do the same to you!"_

"_No!"_

"_Oh so it's just me that's special is it?"_

"_Chris, orb me back up there, now!"_

"_No! For the thousandth time, no!"_

_Leo span around, throwing a lightning strike at the unsuspecting wall. _

"_What the hell is wrong with you! What good are you to anyone dead except Wyatt!"_

_The words left Chris' mouth before he had a chance to stop them. _

"_What?" Leo hissed and Chris growled, well aware of the denial that would follow._

"_What? The all-seeing Elder doesn't know? Or doesn't want to know? How do you think they orbed in Leo?" The Elder flinched at the use of his name, but remained oblivious to the implications in Chris' rant. _

"_Wyatt did it, Wyatt." He continued, elongating the name. "He orbed them up there, he created a barrier, he murdered the Elders!"_

_Leo looked up suddenly, having felt their deaths just as Chris had spoken of them. He turned to look back at Chris, and stormed off. _

"I avoided him for over a week. Then I guess it just made sense, what Chris had told me. But when I went looking for him, they said he had gone, left for the past."

"So he didn't tell you?"

"I wouldn't have let him go alone if he had."

"And that would have made things so much better; two Leo's roaming around the place and the both of you with serious issues."

Leo looked at Phoebe, half wondering what would have happened if he had joined his son. "Now it's your turn." He said.

Phoebe looked at Paige, who stared back without saying a word. The older of them turned back to Leo and took a breath.

"Ah, well, Chris is here, and we have to find him." She hoped it would be enough.

It wasn't.

"Do you know where he went?" Leo asked cautiously, obviously having not heard the entire conversation between them and Marie earlier.

"Someone called Aruth took him."

Leo jumped off his chair. "What!" He cried out.

"Yeah…" Paige said with a frown.

"That means Wyatt has him." Leo said quietly more to himself than anyone else.

"Yeah, any idea where we could find them?" Phoebe asked and Leo looked back up at them.

"You can't go after him, if he kills you then the future would change, maybe for the worse, and it wouldn't help Chris."

"Oh now you want to help him!" Phoebe said rolling her eyes, ignoring the confused Elder. "Look, he is our nephew-."

"Not yet, and I'm surprised he told you, he tends to keep things to himself. Bottle things up..." Leo trailed off.

"He didn't tell us. I found out, and certain events caused me to tell Paige."

"Who else knows?"

"Nobody."

"Oh."

* * *

Chris straightened instantly at the knock, and Wyatt simply smirked, he turned, opened the door, stepping back to allow the Elder entry. For a moment he gazed at his youngest, up and down, and Chris felt a chill from the glare he received. Then he noticed his father's attire, the black robes instead of white, the hair darker, the _eyes_ darker...

"I'll leave you to it,"

Chris strained his eyes shaking his head as both reality and fiction blurred at once. Wyatt was leaving the room in both, but in one he spoke to Barbas and in the other he spoke to Leo.

"No," Chris whispered at seeing Leo step closer, and for a moment, Wyatt turned, stared at his little brother, amazed at how vulnerable he seemed, and what little he had done to accomplish it. It occurred to him that maybe him being back in the future hadn't had a lot to do with his mission being accomplished, and he dared curiosity wander in his mind for a second as to why indeed Chris had returned.

The boy would not talk, he knew that much, what little he had inherited from his Aunt Phoebe let him know that Chris had endured a bout of questioning from those he had once trusted, and knew fro experience that he could withstand quite a bit. That's why he had brought Barbas in, resurrected from Hell, and bound under Wyatt's iron fist. He would break Chris in ways Wyatt had yet to master, and then, only then when his little brother's soul was trod on one too many times, would he bother to ask him anything.

He looked at Barbas, and nodded.

_He looked at Leo, and nodded._

"Look at you," Leo sneered distastefully, so close that he and Chris' noses were practically touching. Neither broke eye contact, and though he'd never admit it, Barbas was impressed. He found it easier to access the more recent memories, others buried beneath years of pain. No, others he could see far more clearly.

He forced it upon the boy, harnessing every last detail until it was replaying right now in that very room.

"Son of a bitch," His father growled, hissed as he pounced suddenly, a deft right hook hitting his son squarely in the face. Chris, caught off guard, and hands bound, had no way to break his fall, but he was saved, or not rather, by Leo's arms lifting him up and shoving him into the wall, more injuries to add to the ever growing list.

"Why'd you do it?"

Chris didn't understand, the words were familiar but the surroundings stopped him from truly understanding and it made it even harder for him to believe it wasn't real, it wasn't merely Barbas' doing.

"Do what?" He rasped in return, only to have Leo throw him once more, his body colliding harshly with the opposite wall and falling to the floor. Leo strayed forward once again, but then slowed, and Barbas cocked his head to the side. The memory wasn't playing out properly, up until now it had been but Chris wasn't acting in the same way and thus the memory was slowly becoming void, slowing itself down to give Chris another chance to act. But the boy did nothing, he was still trying to breathe and regain his composure, and Barbas quickly went to the next memory, filtering through years of abuse until he recognized what was needed.

Garbled voices out of sync as Leo's imaged flickered, his voice thinning in and out and echoing in Chris' ears.

"_...want to let you know what's going to happen if you get caught..."_

"_...I trusted you, I vouched for you..."_

"_...you're not family..."_

"_...more harm than good..."_

For a second the Leo in front of him was kneeling by his son, with eyes of a father, eyes he rarely saw, but ones he had seen in the past. There was relief, and Chris supposed it was from being found, his father often did do the finding in their family, especially when demon attacks were involved, but the image flickered again and Chris had no way to realize it was the build of emotions is his own head that was causing the static signal despite Barbas' attempts to make everything clear. The voice was haunting when it spoke, barely resembling Leo's own.

"How could you betray your own brother...?"

Chris didn't answer. He refused, he would not allow Wyatt and Barbas' mind games to get to him, and he certainly wouldn't humour the apparition of his father in the room. But the man persisted.

"...your _family_?"

_My father wouldn't do this. He'd blank me, but he wouldn't do this..._

"God, Chris, were you that desperate for attention?"

_Not him, not him, not him_.

"You're weak!"

_No, not him, not Dad, no, no-_

The strike was unlike anything he had been hit with before, and when in Wyatt's grasp, he had been hurt many times. Hit more so. But this-. It bit into his flesh, made him want to scream, but he held it back in time. Especially glad when Wyatt decided to join them, in anticipation no doubt, of something Chris hoped he'd never see. He found it ironic that the powers bestowed to an Elder, were one of the most painful around, pulsing with electricity as they struck again and again.

Another hit, another lash, and suddenly Chris was more than concerned when the raw pain seemed to grow with each passing second rather than calm itself. Another strike hit him, and then another. Like lightening on his flesh, a whip of electricity brought on by the cruel laughter of his father.

_No, no, it isn't him, it isn't him. _

He bit his lip so hard that a tiny trickle of blood flew from the imprint of his teeth on skin. In his time even Barbas had come close to destroying the charmed ones, and now, their wounded son was no match for him.

Another hit, another stroke on his weakening body, and Chris now recognized the coppery smell in the air...

Barbas had made the decision to make himself known, to be the embodiment controlling the terror and pure fear, like tendrils wrapping themselves around his heart and soul before ripping him apart, ripping him to shreds.

Wyatt watched fascinated, when suddenly something broke inside of Chris as soon as Barbas dared touched the memory of his mother's death. It had been clear in the boy's mind, and a source of much grief. The Demon of Fear would never pass up such an opportunity, but had been unaware of how deep the hurt truly ran. The images reverberated in Chris' mind as he stood up, suddenly strong, pulsing with anger, and growling. This could not be manipulated, and this, he would not let a demon get his hold on.

_She had screamed at her son to leave, both of their powers dwindling fast by whatever magic the demon had over them. Orbing was no longer an option, and with her own active powers beginning to fade, and Chris only truly being able to control his telekinesis the fourteen year old was no match. He'd already been hit by a fire-ball, a wound that had yet to stop bleeding, and Piper, her motherly instincts reaching an all time high and ordered him to run, while she distracted the demon. _

"No!" He screamed, and Barbas actually flinched.

_S__he told him to never look back. And he didn't, for fear of seeing the inevitable, the reason for her screams._

Wyatt was vaguely amused, unaware of whatever his brother was seeing, perhaps the death of his beloved lover? After all, that must have wounded him quite a bit...

_There was a small shriek, diminished by the distance he had run. The demon was vanquished, and Chris waited patiently for his mother to return, a smile on her face as she saw he was unharmed. _

_But she didn't._

And Chris couldn't take anymore. His wrists broke the bonds, his hands raised in the air, and his pain shooting out of every fiber, fueling and harnessing it in Barbas' direction, who screamed as the flames engulfed him and he was vanquished. Wyatt almost choked. He looked at Chris suddenly. Who stood still growling, his eyes almost black with fury.

_Darkness descended, and he stayed as still as a statue of a mourning child. He rested his head on his knees, and his body shook even more, from the sobs that racked his body. He didn't want to call out. He couldn't find his voice. He just sat._

The memories faded and so did the adrenaline. He watched with insane relief as the crumpled form of his only friend in this god forsaken future faded away. Jen was safe, and Wyatt had gone too far. To resurrect the demon responsible for too much of their families pain and then to have it resurface like that was beyond torture. Chris faced his brother, ready for a fight.

"Bring it on, bitch." He muttered uncharacteristically, and Wyatt felt admiration for a moment, before he pounced. No powers, not yet. This was a vendetta on both of their behalf, a chance to have a real fist fight, and to relish in the thought of the other being the punch bag.

**Please Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: Not mine, but soon it's over, and appearances by -cough- people in the last episode :D**

**Am beyond pissed since Microsoft Word ate my chapter, and had to re-write the thing!**

****

**Chapter 10**

"Look, Wyatt has defences," Leo said, replying to the many questions that had been barked in his direction by two women on a mission to save their nephew, fuelled by the fear of injuries they had seen on him earlier, "but," Leo continued, "He thinks the Whitelighter population are wiped out, and he knows Chris would never just orb in, so that's your best bet, he won't be expecting it, and if I work at it, I can weaken the defences long enough for you to get in but then you have to leave straight away, you understand?"

Phoebe found herself looking at a semi-likeable Leo. One who had two son's, and cared for both, and was clearly afraid of the possible outcomes to this particularly bad situation they were all knee-deep in, right now.

"You hear me? Orb, focus everything on Chris, and orb, okay?"

"How long until we'll be able to get through?" Paige asked cautiously, but the look on Leo's face said they'd just have to wait and see.

_Great. _

But in the mean time, she and Phoebe paced relentlessly while Leo worked on the power surrounding Wyatt's base, hidden, known only to a few, and began making leeway, unbeknownst to his off-track-boy so far from the rightful path of the Halliwells.

* * *

Chris ducked the first punch, but caught the second squarely in the jaw, and as he took a moment to spit out the blood from his gums and wince at the now loose tooth inside of his mouth, he planned his attack, quickly, efficiently, and above all, spasmodically.

He lunged, to tackle, aware that his brother was expecting it, and as he saw Wyatt's body prepare down low, Chris jumped, barely a few centimetres off of the ground and pounded hard on his brothers shoulders, the force pushing him to the ground long enough for Chris to land a mighty kick in his ribs, before Wyatt fought back again, and pushing his brother back into the wall landing a punch to the abdomen, and a swift kick to the shin, jerking his knee, as it collided harshly with his brothers strong boot.

"Scared, little brother?"

"I'm not afraid of you." Chris said darkly, as he kicked out at Wyatt, who in turn grabbed his ankle, and twisted it, turning the boy in mid air until he landed with an _oof_, face first into the ground.

"No, no, you're not are you, but you're afraid for them. Their little lives in your hands. They're terrified, they scream and they cry and they beg for mercy."

"And I bet you love that don't you? Does it make you feel strong, tough guy? To kill knowing the last thing they'll ever feel is fear? _'And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair!'_" Chris quoted, eyes too dark as they stared at his brother through hair too long, muttering in response, recalling a time when he had not only attended school, but gotten essays, homework assignments, and promises of pop quizzes come morning in English on the poem of the week. He remembered how long he had complained, until his brother had given in and decided to help him remember the drug induced craze that was the work of Coleridge on opium. He remembered a time when Wyatt had cared to help him, or maybe had gotten too annoyed to say no when Chris had whined for it.

"'_Wave a circle round him twice,_'" He stepped right up to Chris, a hair away from the younger man's face, making his brother turn away, who hadn't truly expected his brother to remember. "_'And close your eyes in holy dread for he on honey-dew hath fed_,'" He whispered, in his brother's ear, before straightening up, and saying more clearly;

"'_And drunk the milk of Paradise._'" He said triumphantly, his hands gestured out around him, his head flung back, chin in the air, and eyes closed in his own appraisal.

"You call this paradise!" Chris cried, cutting through his brother's reverie, unable to believe the words in which his brother seemed to see similarities in.

"You're the one who started it."

"What, the poem or this hell-hole?"

"Why not both?"

"No way are you blaming me for your twisted creations!"

"It's always been for you Chris, for you and the rest of the family..."

"To protect me? How is letting your cronies beat the crap out of me, protecting me!"

"To keep our legacy alive, to keep us in control over the world..." Wyatt continued as though he hadn't even heard his brother.

"That's not what the legacy's about! You're tarnishing it by killing innocents. By murdering as you see fit! Deciding who lives and who dies depending on their heritage and their loyalty to your regime!"

"I'm surprised you even know of the word loyalty, because clearly the meaning escapes you." Wyatt quipped angrily, but Chris had no time, no patience for the same god damn conversations he kept having with his brother on the rare occasions where they saw each other outside of the battle field. And even then, Wyatt still brought it up, amongst the piles of corpses, the human cannon fodder, and broken bodies...

"Don't start."

"Don't you dare, tell me what to do!" Wyatt bellowed, suddenly more angry at his brother's nonchalant response to his treachery, "You betrayed me, betrayed everything we had together, I trusted you more than anything!"

"You never trusted anyone! You still don't! God, now who's being dramatic?"

"You're a traitor!"

"I was trying to save you!"

"I don't need to be saved, Chris!"

"Yes you do, because god damn it, you've destroyed this world, Wyatt, and I can't bear the thought of killing you but if that's what it takes, then I'll do it, just like I know you'd kill me right now if you could. Just like I know you'll kill anything that gets in your way. I am not like you, but I will stop you, and if it's a choice between joining you, or dying trying to save you, then I hope to God your next fire-ball is your best, Wy, I really do."

The next one thrown was not his most powerful but Chris would be doing what he does best if he said it hadn't hurt, he'd be lying that is, because the blast of energy hit him square in the abdomen, leaving a trail of blasted flesh and dripping blood in its wake, a small wisp of fluttering smoke fading upwards, and Chris felt his stomach convulse at the stench of his own burning skin.

"You're going to get yourself killed, is beating me really worth it?" Wyatt asked, as he stepped forward, and just as his brother was about to fall, adrenaline fading, and body failing, Wyatt threw Chris against the wall, the elder boy's powers holding the younger against the wall, his arms and legs pinned by an invisible force. Wyatt's large hand found Chris' throat and he held it in a vice-like grip against the rocky wall.

"Now it's my turn to save you, little brother, from this mess you've made."

"Go on then." Chris said through gritted teeth, but Wyatt merely stared as though semi-surprised at his little brother's words.

"What? Need provoking?" Chris sneered, hiding his pain with anger. "Ok then, you're weak and stupid, pathetic to think no one would be able to stop you, idiotic and naïve, power hungry and a tyrant." The grip tightened with each insult, despite Wyatt's attempt at keeping a hard exterior. Chris wasn't just provoking Wyatt for the sake of it, oh no, this was revenge and despite the situation, and death lingering so closely, he couldn't help feel how sweet it was.

"No one loves you, you're a murderer, a cold blooded murderer and you will burn in Hell for all that-." The grip was too tight. Dark spots danced in front of Chris' eyes, but he was determined to finish. "For all-for all-that you have done." He croaked out as he once again tried to raise his arms to Wyatt's to stop his air supply being cut off.

"You are the weak one, Christopher. Too weak to see the bigger picture, you are the one alone, with no one to love you, not I."

Only choked breaths replied as Chris' mind raced.

_Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't breathe._

"What are you looking at dear brother?" Wyatt sneered, seeing his brothers green eyes begin to glaze over, but Chris didn't answer, though the fact that Wyatt's hand kept his head against the wall, tilted upwards wasn't exactly helping matters.

But Chris had stopped looking down to his brother, he merely stared up as the pounding in his brain became unbearable. His chest was on fire as he desperately tried to breathe. And then, it happened, he saw it, the reason he know longer tried to meet his brothers eyes.

It was the strangest thing to Chris. The cave ceiling melted away, noticeable only to himself, the sky parted from its blue tinge until a light purple and white scoured above them. Clouds swirled around quickly and burst suddenly with a bright light, soft and warm. Smiling faces bearing down on him. Words of affection and comfort ringing in his ears.

'_Hold on.'_ They told him. _'Just hold on'_

_Easy for you to say, you're not the one being choked to death. _

Maybe that's all this was, an illusion of his oxygen deprived brain. Showing him what he longed to see. Before the light engulfing them was blinding and finally, the grip was relinquished, followed by a cussing Wyatt as he cried, "What the-?" The light only got brighter, and the older Halliwell shielded his eyes from the rays, while Chris simply bathed in the glow. It made him stronger somehow, seeing so much light after being surrounded with such darkness. It gave him a hope he didn't think he could possess, a strange optimism that didn't suit him in the slightest, and yet though foreign, seemed so right.

It kept getting brighter and brighter, until Wyatt's hand was no longer anywhere near him, and with one look from Chris, his brother was shooting across the room, flying fast and landing hard into the cavern's back wall, bits of debris fell in cascades over Wyatt's still form, his head having hit hard enough to knock him out. Chris was breathing hard now, fighting for air as black spots danced across his vision.

And blue spots too...blue orbs, dancing so slowly, merging into one giant blue, no, black, dark blanket that looked so inviting. He fell to the darkness, fell to the floor, hard, unconsciousness winning as two voices cried out in shock.

Paige and Phoebe rushed forward to their motionless nephew, so still save for the slow, too slow, movement of his chest rising.

"Chris." Paige whispered and she was about to edge closer to him when everything happened at once.

A guard had spotted them and instantly started shouting orders to the other guards, while running towards them, a fire ball at hand, but at the same time, Phoebe and Paige both grabbed Chris and suddenly from nowhere there was a sound, similar to the tinkling of orbs and white lights engulfed them all as the fire ball whizzed past where they had been standing and straight into the wall leaving a nasty scorch mark.

Aruth growled as one of his colleague's came up to him.

"Inform Lord Wyatt that his brother has escaped." He said darkly, knowing of the anger that would follow. "Again." He muttered.

"Uh, sir?" The guard asked timidly, unsure of his commander's mood, or what his reaction would be. "Lord Wyatt is still in there."

"He is?" The amusement was hidden by confusion effectively, and Aruth smiled grimly at seeing his Lord, crumbled at the base of a very damaged wall. He crept closer, kneeling, checking the man's pulse and retracting at the feel of the thump, thump, thump beneath his fingertips.

"That's gonna hurt in the morning." He muttered, looking Wyatt over once more, before ordering the guards to take him to his quarters, while he stalked off, wondering who had saved Chris this time.

* * *

Phoebe and Paige looked around them, judging by the light shining through the attic windows, it was day, and there was no portal but they definitely weren't in the future anymore, the state of the attic they had left gave that much away.

Paige looked at Phoebe confused, and the empath looked down. She was back in pantaloons, back in blue, back to being a blonde, something she was more than glad had disappeared after going through the portal.

"What the-? Oh come on!" She cried.

"The spell must have brought us back to the moment we left." Paige reasoned.

"But why? How? I mean we didn't go through the portal."

"But the spell was to find-." She stopped and span around. The young man they had sought out to save was still unconscious, lying on the ground of the Halliwell attic in the same position he had been in the dungeons.

"Chris!" They both cried in unison, kneeling over him. Leo orbed in, having heard the cry and assuming it was out of habit for wanting their Whitelighter, and until they were assigned a new one Leo would be there for them.

As he materialized in the attic and saw what was in front of him, his mouth hung open and his eyes went wide.

Phoebe and Paige were kneeling over Chris. But how was that possible, he had only left a few minutes ago, and Paige and Phoebe had only been in the attic for a few minutes, less even.

It was the sight of the boy that made Leo stop, his stomach dropping, and guilt threatening to over-power him. Chris' arms were limp, but his wrists were bruised, looking close to broken, and his ankle jutted out at an odd angle. His jacket was gone and his shirt was in tatters, thin lined rips showing welts on his back, burn marks littered his clothes, and Leo could only imagine how much pain he must be in, judging from the deep crimson stains covering his clothes. He had to have been attacked with at least three energy balls in the time that he had been gone, and that only accounted for a small part of the wounds. The rest he didn't dare contemplate.

Paige and Phoebe looked up at the Elder and they instantly stood up, standing in front of Chris guarding him from Leo, who they assumed was there to take him back.

"Leo, don't you dare-." But the Elder stopped Paige. "What happened to him?"

They didn't stop him from kneeling down next to him, taking in his appearance.

"Wyatt." Phoebe said simply, not daring to give Leo any sympathy for the guilt he felt. "Look, Leo if you want to help, just heal him."

Leo nodded, carefully beginning to untie the knots on the ropes. Feeling the aggravation on his skin, Chris began to come to, his head shifting from side to side as he tried to wake up. He opened his eyes and saw Leo leaning over him. Panicking he shuffled backwards, crying out as soon as he did so, his wounds screaming at him. He began to shake and Phoebe couldn't believe the amount of fear she was reading from him. She ran to his side, blocking his eye-line.

"Chris, Chris, look at me, its ok, your back now."

Chris looked at her and felt relief wash over him. He opened and closed his cracked lips, but no words came out, she smiled at him. "You need to let Leo heal you." She said softly and suddenly Chris was very aware of his state. He looked down at her hands on his arms, trying to calm him and he instantly began to back away afraid that Barbas was back somehow or that Wyatt had resorted to more cruel games. He pulled, trying to get out, get away, he was frantic, fearful and Phoebe was fighting to keep him calm.

"What happened?" He asked, confused, and in need, understandably so, of an explanation, and Phoebe hastily explained of the help they had recieved from an elder, while Chris knew full well of the only remaining elder who would help...but he knew his Aunt wouldn't have ignored thename if she didn't have herreasons, and he suspected she didn't want to owe Leo anything. Either Leo.

"Did you see," He paused, breathing hard still, and worrying hisAunts with every momenthe wasn't healed."Did you see a light?"

"A light? What do you mean?"

"There was this...light, and it was so bright, and so_powerful_..." He said vaguely his voice becoming more and more distant.

"It was probably because of Le-the elder's powers."Paige said,correcting herself at the last minute."He told us using that much power might cause a reaction on the other side, you know? He warned us that it might make things riskier." She said, also in Phoebe's direction, to remind her of Leo's words of caution, to get in and get out quickly and efficiently. Chris hid a sigh, thinking his visions really had just been wishful thinking of an oxygen deprived body...

Phoebe nodded at Paige, but suddenly feeling sadder to see her nephew's crestfallen expression, andnot even knowing of whatever horrors Chris had gone through. She dared touch his wrists, and Chris gasped at the pain to his hands and the agony of the air getting to his raw wrists became worse and worse. Phoebe, feeling his pain, grabbed his shoulder, comforting him but then as soon as he dared calm down, dared believe...

Leo was back next to him.

"Just lie back." He instructed, and Chris did so, never letting go of the image of his Aunt Phoebe in his eyeline, the pain was getting unbearable, and if he gritted his teeth anymore they would surely shatter into a million pieces. He couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted to-

But the thought was blown away by the blissful oblivion that overtook him.

**Please Review.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: Nope, but isn't it over soon? Yay! I mean...oh no...aherm...**

**Slightly short, sorry, not long to go I promise.**

**Chapter 11**

"Where is everyone?" Piper asked as she walked in to the attic, but nobody paid attention to her surprised gasps and questions, as she cried "What the hell is going on here?"

Phoebe was watching as Leo placed his hands over Chris, the golden glow washing over the boy, but it was taking too long and the unconscious man's health failed to improve.

"What's taking so long?" Phoebe asked and Leo shook his head, he could feel it. The life force slipping through his fingers like nothing more than sand. The boy was dying, his time was spent and Leo knew what he had to do. He had done it once before. Just once, with Piper...

"There's a lot to heal." His voice was quiet. He had to do this, he had to. The guilt would consume him if nothing else. He orbed away as quickly as possible, intent on his actions.

"Leo!" Paige screamed after him, unable to comprehend any reasons for leaving. "Leo!" Her voice reached a note so high dogs would cringe at the sound, but she didn't care. Chris' head lolled to the side and stayed completely still. "LEO!"

* * *

The sun was setting over, well, air. It seemed the great simplicity of the nothing stretched out forever, but it was peaceful and calm, and Chris didn't object. He didn't know anything, just this. Just the perfection. He felt another presence, and cocked his head to the side, staring at the new arrival.

Leo stared back. Chris was here, and that meant so much. If Chris was here, then he deserved to be here. He deserved to stand tall, peaceful, illuminated by the good of his own heart. How could he not have seen it before? How could he let his own suspicions cloud the obvious good in the young man? He reached out a hand, unable to speak, and Chris made no move to stop him.

Heat from fever vibrated beneath his finger tips, and he felt something, something strange, just out of reach. A recognition that did not belong. A familiarity Chris felt, that ran deeper than the few times Leo had healed him in this timeline.

Did he know them in the future?

And if Leo had healed him before, did that mean he liked him? Trusted him?

Then he saw it. He felt it. And if ever he was asked to explain it, he knew he could not. It was everything, everything he didn't know but should. Or would.

* * *

"Paige!" Phoebe cried, loud enough for the youngest sister to hear her over the cries of anguish, anger, and disbelief. Even Piper was surprised enough to join in calling for her ex, but Phoebe had stayed silent her empathic ability having explained Leo's intentions to her. She took hold of her sisters arms, that had until now been raised into the air in a gesture of despair, and put them down, staring into her eyes.

"Just wait, ok? Just wait, and _see_."

* * *

Chris was vulnerable, his guards down, and Leo could see it all. Faint memories the young man dared not recall, for fear of not being able to keep his emotions in check. Simple thoughts lying beneath the pain. Heartbreak mixed with fear, and a touch of a hated loner-complex. He could hear his thoughts, and his thoughts, or rather his mantra at that very moment, made Leo's breath catch in his throat.

_Leo not dad, Leo not dad, Leo not dad._

He had to save him, if only to find out what that meant, and he would. He had brought Piper from the brink of death as a mere Whitelighter. He would bring Chris back too. He just had to keep hold long enough. He felt it, the shadow of death moving away, off to find another victim on it's list, grumbling about the Charmed One's interference once again, and their meddle-some Elder-friend. Leo looked up, seeing an incomprehensible expression on Chris' face before he disappeared from sight. Leo instantly orbed down to the manor's attic, back to Chris' side.

Paige had been calmed down by her sister's comforting words and as Leo orbed in, she noticed Chris beginning to look better. The Elder's hands were once again extended over the boy and the golden glow worked its magic.

Paige looked up at Piper who was standing next to them all.

"What happened?" She asked for the umpteenth time and Paige sighed. "We tried to tell you." She said simply, turning back to Chris, whose pale pallor was very slowly vanishing. Phoebe touched her arm to re-direct her attention, and Paige could see Leo's face. Covered in shock, mouth agape, eyes closed tightly, and once again Piper's rants, now about her ex husband, became mere White Noise.

_Leo not dad, Leo not dad, Leo not dad._

To any other, and maybe at some point to him, the words could be explained away by something or other. Maybe he was delirious, or maybe the sentence itself was being heard, or said wrongly, understood, or misunderstood. But Leo wasn't any other, and at that very moment, he could see it all, and the feelings told him. The blood that lay beneath his fingers, marring the young boy's body, was his own. His blood. His son's blood. His DNA. His son.

The glow ceased and Leo let go, as though he had been pushed away. He sat back on his heels, taking deep breaths as Chris got up slowly on shaky legs, keeping his eyes to the floor. He swayed, and Phoebe, who was closest, kept him upright.

"You need to sit down." She said, and Paige helped her move him to the small sofa up there. They dropped him down carefully, and he sat on the comfortable cushions, feeling very uncomfortable by the eyes watching him, it was the last thing Phoebe felt before he closed himself off once more.

"You're still a genie?" Chris asked, trying to shift their gaze, having thought they would have done something by now, and not quite remembering a pantaloon clad genie entering his cell. Then again, he didn't remember much else that had happened through the hazy memories of torture.

"You only went back to the future an hour ago." Piper stated, explaining, but Chris' head shot up.

"I was gone for a hell of a lot longer than one hour." He said quietly. Phoebe cringed, hearing the despair in the voice, knowing he had assumed they had abandoned him after not coming for so long.

"When we cast the spell, it was this time, and by the time we found you, the spell took us back to the same time, to here and now."

Chris nodded, though he didn't fully understand. He didn't really care, about anything, anymore. He stared at his hands, well aware of the various stares. Two were concerned, caring and worried. One was confused and angry at being left out, while the other….

He looked into Leo's eyes, and saw awe.

_Awe? Why awe? _

Panic rose in Chris' throat, but he knew Phoebe wouldn't be _that_ stupid, would she?

Wait, two were concerned. Paige. That meant Paige knew. Paige _knows_!

_But she rescued me, right? _

And if he was honest, he'd prefer his Aunts to both know, he hated playing favorites with them, and hated even more to lie to one of them and not the other, or indeed, be honest.Leo was still starting, and by looking into Chris' eyes, he saw his own. He stepped forward, as though to mend the rift between them.

"Who did this to you?" Leo asked, unable to hold it in any longer, needing to hear Chris say the words, needing to hear Chris tell him it was Wyatt before he could believe any of it. Needing to hear something that would change the subject, direct his attention; from one son to the other, and Chris half wondered whether or not he should say it. But as he looked up at him with more hatred than ever before, something else left his lips.

"You did," He growled, suddenly aware of how easily anger came to him when his strength was returned. "The second you sent me back." He said standing up and orbing away, materializing near the door, only a few feet away. He looked around, his face flushed at the realization that his emotions were throwing off his abilities.

"Chris-." Phoebe began, taking her chance and edging towards him.

The young man took one look at her and she gasped. Their eyes meeting, the pain reverberating off of him, pounding in her head, the raw emotion he was unable to control, potion or no. He did the only thing he could think of, the thing he was best at, next to lying, and orbing. He ran.

Leo stood gob smacked. He hadn't expected those words. The anger. The hatred from his own son. His _son_. Chris. His father's name, for his son. Chris was his son. And he hated him, his own son, hated him, and he had good reason to.

"What the hell is going on? You two say you're going up to the attic to go work on the book, and I'm expected to make potions in the kitchen when I could be with Greg, just so you can go to the future without telling me!"

"Piper, would you just, SHUT UP?" Paige screamed in retort, and Piper fell silent, but scowled all the same, muttering, "I want an explanation."

"Chris comes first!"

"What? Since when!"

"Since-"

"Phoebe!" Paige cried, cutting off any revealing truths that lay on the tip of her sister's tongue.

"That's it!" Phoebe retorted, anger still boiling, as she headed for the door once more.

"No Phoebe, we do not go off on our own! We work together!"

"Piper!"

Sisters always fight, and it was not rare to hear these particular sisters raise their voices at each other, but it was not a female that bellowed the name. But Leo. He was standing, fists clenched, well aware of how little his love knew, but more concerned about his son.

His youngest _son_.

Paige stared at him inquisitively, as though trying to see past the very angry exterior of the normally pacifist Elder. She looked at Phoebe, and the middle sister was thinking the same thing.

_What's up with him?_

"Yes, Leo?" Piper asked silkily, assuming his outburst had more to do with her mention of Greg than berating their son's –though unbeknownst to her- rescue.

"They were righting my wrong." He said quietly, having regretting shouting. "He didn't deserve that."

"That's not what you thought an hour ago."

"Things change."

"Not that quickly, what's going on?"

"What's going on! I'll tell you what's going on! Chris just left and no ones going to get him!" A thought struck Paige, as she heard Phoebe's most recent outburst.

Piper was asking Leo what was going on. And Piper could always tell when Leo wasn't telling her something, which meant he knew something.

But what? Surely not…but how?

She looked back at him, and didn't need her sisters empathic ability to see the guilt running deeper that an Elder regretting his actions. Far deeper.

"What are you waiting for! Orb!" Phoebe cried, having grabbed her sister's hand and waiting to be taken out of the attic.

But Paige was reluctant. She was staring at Leo, and the man knew it was his responsibility. He had to apologize for so much, but clearly Phoebe was not keen on the idea, and she half wondered if the thought of Leo knowing had even crossed her sisters mind.

"Paige!"

"You're still a genie, Phoebe, and the demon's still out there, looking for Zanzabar, so you know what? We're going to vanquish her, and change you back, and then we can deal with Chris." Piper said, almost annoyed at the secrets being kept from her, and the strange-goings on in the air.

Phoebe looked spoiled for a fight, and more than willing to spill the beans during an angry rant, but Paige grabbed her arm, looking at her intently, and the middle sister got the hint. Sighing, she took one last look at Leo, and left the room with Piper.

Paige made to follow, and then turned to her brother in law. Well, ex brother in law.

"Leo, go to your son." She said quietly, and he looked at her, almost scared to hear the words that brought more guilt to his heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat and left the room, deciding to find him the manual way instead of orbing. The walking would give him time to think up the monster-of-an-apology that Chris was long overdue.

**Please Review.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Going, going, gone as of Sunday**

**This is it. Thanks again to everyone who took the time to review, it means a lot :)**

**Chapter 12**

Her sisters were up to something and she knew it. More than knew it, she could feel it, and she didn't need Phoebe's powers for that. She was the oldest, and she knew them both, knew them well, and had likely more wisdom than the both of them put together. It hadn't escaped her notice that she'd been singled out somewhat today. She hadn't understood the anger, she hadn't really wanted to in all honesty. And then Leo joining the mix only fuelled her fury, what in the hell was going on!

But her questions fell on deaf ears while Paige's tone was low as she tried to calm Phoebe down, who was clearly more agitated by Chris' condition than Piper at that very moment. Yes, she had been worried for the man, seeing him as he was, she was not cold hearted. But she wasn't one to let go of grudges quickly either. In most cases she did the complete opposite especially when it concerned her son, and Chris had proven his distrust more than once.

Maybe she had been silent for too long, because when she looked back up, Phoebe and Paige were watching her carefully, and as Phoebe went to say something, Paige grabbed her arm and orbed her downstairs, and Piper, never one to let things go, quickly ran down the stairs, as quietly as she could, and listening out, followed the soft voices in the kitchen.

"If we tell her, then everything's okay, Leo knows, we know, Piper's the only one who doesn't know."

"Phoebe you weren't even supposed to tell me! How the hell do you think Chris will feel if we tell Piper?"

"Because lying has worked so well this far!"

"Look, when Leo comes back with Chris-

"How do you even know he will, Paige? He's the one who sent Chris to the future in the first place!"

"He didn't know!"

"That doesn't excuse it! Father or not, he almost had Chris killed!"

"We have to wait on Chris for this one, Phoebe! If we tell Piper, he'd be pissed, and if we hold a grudge when he wants to forget, then he'd be pissed, it sucks, but that's all there is!"

"Damn it, Paige."

But when Phoebe stormed out, the first thing she saw, was Piper sitting stock still on one of the dining table's chairs.

"Piper? What's wrong?" Phoebe asked, crouching in front of her sister, while Paige stood next to them, a hand on Piper's shoulder. "Piper?" She called.

"Father?" Piper whispered, looking Phoebe in the eye, who in turn looked up at Paige.

"Now what?"

* * *

The rain fell, battering the sidewalk, falling fast and hard. The street lamps shone through the mist but to Chris, it wasn't anywhere near bright enough. Darkness seemed to follow him, depression lingering near. His body was tense as he walked through the darkened streets, wary.

Once again, the great Leo Wyatt had messed up. But honestly after years of being let down, what did Chris expect? Time and time again his father would choose Wyatt over him, the first to be healed the first to be rescued, the first to be believed, or noticed, listened to, and the last time he had seen his father, his father, not the Leo of the present, they had fought because Chris has saved his god damn life. He had long gotten over his need for pride, but it didn't stop him yearning for something he'd never now receive.

He wouldn't be surprised if right now, Leo was trying to convince the girls that Wyatt must have had a reason to trust his brother as such. Brother. Oh god, he knew. He knew everything, or at least, the main parts Chris had fought to keep hidden.

The rain continued to fall still, heavier, and the air seemed so much colder, breath fogging in front of him, as the reign on his powers slipped completely, almost destroying the city with the beginnings of a most-powerful storm. He had only done this twice before, the first, a complete accident, the second...well, as he realized when he came back to the future, it would seem he inherited that from his mother. Letting the fear and pain and anger drive him to destruction.

Just like Wyatt.

But he didn't stop. He kept walking, drenched, shaking, shivering, fuming. Every step took him closer to the San Francisco bridge, and he wondered how much longer he would walk before his own turmoil took him over the railings and into the water below.

The agony of his wounds was gone, though far from forgotten, but the aching in his chest at knowing what had caused them, w_ho,_ hurt him even more. Not Wyatt, no that he could almost handle. He could almost forget his brother doing that, his brother, beating him, giving the order to let his fears come to life, because damn it, Chris was determined to save him, save his brother, the one he barely knew from his early years, and in the future, he wouldn't put it past his father to be so uncaring, but this past Leo was supposed to be different. A young Elder, Husband and Father. He was supposed to have more compassion. What had happened to the man who had told him trust worked both ways? Who had helped him escape from Wyatt's clutches once before?

He was blinded by what he saw as Chris' betrayal. Chris shuddered, not entirely from the cold. He looked up for a moment, his eyes squinting naturally as thunder boomed above, and lightening struck across the skies. It was his doing, and he had no intention of stopping. The rain soothed and froze him. Until he was numb, and he wanted to be like that, he wanted to stay numb, and unfeeling so that he could focus on falling rather than holding on.

Chris looked up, now so close to the bridge, as close as he would ever really get, he supposed. He had never been the suicidal type before, but before his purpose hadn't seemed so damned. So unreachable and fruitless. He knew how dangerous it might be to try and orb up there, but the looming red bridge called to him. As though being high up, and seeing the damage he was inflicting through his pain inadvertently might help him somewhat.

He had never been one for drowning his sorrows, but he wished he had a drink right now. Something to burn his throat, and get rid of the lump of raw emotions lodged there. He wasn't even sure if he could cry anymore. Years of hardening himself against Wyatt's cruel ways, steeling himself to look and see the dead. Not flinch at the corpses littering his doorstep every morning in the crumbling post-apocalyptic San Francisco.

If tears should come, he wouldn't notice, the rain made sure of that. The rain that was beginning to turn to hail as his emotions turned Mother Nature insane.

* * *

_"Father?"_ Piper repeated, more than a little stricken and confused. "But-how?" and Paige gave her a look, that Piper wanted to correct suddenly.

"I know how, but, who-I mean, I can't be...his _mother_?"

Phoebe resisted the urge to smile at the indecision and different tones of voice Piper had displayed in that one sentence alone.

"Piper, listen, you are his mother. Maybe not yet, but, you are his mother."

"Oh god, I-but-god Leo sent him away-oh god, Wyatt did that to him? To his little brother? And I let it happen, oh god, what kind of mother-and he just-oh god." And she buried her face in her hands.

"No, Piper, look at me, this is not your fault, okay? You can't blame yourself!" And for some time, Piper simply stared at Paige and her calm, but forceful demeanor before she stood up, and ran off, heading for the attic.

"Piper!" Phoebe called after her, "Where are you going?"

And Piper span around already halfway up the stairs, she took a shuddering breath, wiped her tears, and pretended her heart wasn't breaking inside as she plastered on a smile. "You're still a genie, Phoebe." She said, rushing to the book of shadows, and both of her sisters sighed, realizing that Phoebe's comment over a year ago, regarding Piper's ability to face her problems, might have been wrong after all.

* * *

When he felt the bridge beneath his feet, he had almost fallen on the red steel, surprised he had not landed in the middle of the road, ready to be flattened by a car. No, he was here, and relatively safe. His own emotional backlash through the weather wouldn't harm him. Much. His control was improving the more his body recovered. He sat himself down on the bleacher, letting his legs hang a little over the edge, daring himself to jump, knowing he never would. On the edge of reason, logic forgotten...

He wasn't sure how long he had sat there, wanting to be alone, wishing to be somewhere else despite the comfort of being on the bridge gave him, and at the sound invading his silence save for the rumbling thunder, pummeling rain, and crackling lightening, he recalled that there used to be a time when the soft tinkling of orbs in the silence of day and night was a sound of relief. It meant his brother turning up in the nick of time to save him, or his Aunt coming to pick him up the unconventional way, keeping out of sight. Sometimes it meant visits from friends and those determined to rid the world of evil.

Sometimes it meant Dad was here for a few minutes. A quick hello to a wife no longer having the energy to berate him for his disappearing acts. A bitter eldest child who faked a smile whenever he dropped by, and Chris, a rebellious teen, hell bent on showing his own dark side, and rude qualities whenever the Elder appeared. Once, Piper had spoken to him about it, asked him to be a bit more civil, and he had said simply, "I will when he will." And Piper could ask for no more.

"Chris, I didn't know." He said, as though is excused all he had done.

_But now you do, great! That's just great._

Chris ignored him, his back tense, but shaking in the cold. Healed or not he head been through a horrible ordeal and should be resting. Strange fatherly instincts took over and Leo edged forward towards Chris. He sat down, and for a moment he wondered if Chris would ever speak, but then he heard it. A timid choked whisper, that made his heart clench with guilt.

"Just go,"

"Chris-."

"Just go." He said much more firmly. Leo put a hand on Chris' shoulder but the younger man flinched violently, almost afraid at any touch, let alone from _him_. The sudden change in position was too much, Chris didn't react, and his feet strode forward in thin air, his body slipping, he span to grab hold of the bridge, but Leo got there first, grabbing his son's forearms in a grip so tight that Chris wondered if there would be bruises, but he supposed it was better than falling to an imminent death. After all he couldn't trust himself to orb in his state, not to mention the exposure to magic.

Leo hoisted Chris up onto shaky legs, a look of pure worry etched into lines and creases of wrinkles that Chris could have sworn weren't there before. Leo wouldn't relinquish his hold on his son, not when he could feel the cold beneath the fingertips, and the shivering that only increased ten fold. For a moment, both kept their eyes trained on each other, staring the other down, looking for something, and before Chris realized, his father's hands were glowing where they still held on to him, and he felt warmer for a moment, better.

"Let me take you back to the manor, the girls are worried." _I'm worried_.

"I'm fine." Chris bit out, turning away once more, not seeing Leo as he reached out to him, but held back, before touching him again, for fear the flinch might take him over the edge once more. Of tolerance, of the bridge physical and otherwise...

"Chris, just hear me out, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, and nothing I say can ever take back what I did, but just know if I could, I would, I swear to you-."

"Just go," Chris said for the third time, pleading, looking up at Leo with clouded vision. "Please."He was desperate and Leo could see it, but he didn't want to leave him.

"_Please."_

"If you-uh-if you need anything, just call, ok?"

Chris looked away, well aware of the words having been spoken to him a long time ago, from his Leo, from _Dad_. Broken promises, sugar-coated wonderful-ness, but nothing more than a lie.

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to catch Chris' eyes once more, but not succeeding. Reluctantly he orbed away._  
_

He growled kicking at the air. He hated him. It was pure fury. Loathing. Nothing could make him forgive him. Nothing. Except something; something big enough, good enough, though he doubted such a thing existed.

No, he hated him.

The pacifist. The workaholic. The crappy husband. The crappy father. The abandoning asshole that was, and is, Leo Wyatt.

He fell to his knees in desperation, the turmoil of feelings, threatening to swallow him whole. He clutched his head as though it would easy his suffering to cradle himself somewhat.

It didn't.

His father was to blame, trying to protect Wyatt and taking it too far, not caring about those caught in the crossfire, not caring about the details. Not caring about how it was done, just knowing it needed to be done.

And was he any better? He had killed, oh yes, in the future and in past, some demonic, some truly evil, and others...

Collateral damage as he aimed to save the world.

He was no better than Leo himself.

Chris growled. He wouldn't turn away from his responsibilities and he wouldn't turn away from his family, he was saving them for gods sake, and they couldn't even-

Leo couldn't even trust him to do that.

Neither Leo ever could.

_I'm not like him, I'm not like him._

Chris stood up, as the rain worsened. He looked up, blinking as the drops fell onto his eyes. He set his jaw, well aware of how Leo would hear him. Of how the Elders would hear him. He let out a scream, the single adamant statement, saying all he needed to say.

"_I am not my father's son!"_

Anguish released, and pain reverting as his conscious dwindles, and only a groggy nothingness remains. Fury abates and rage simmers. One sentence and everything stopped. One sentence and everything made sense and he could understand it all. He wasn't Leo's son, not yet, and he wouldn't be for some time. But hopefully, if he was lucky enough, should he fail, his existence would simply not come into play and he would be spared the future, as ruined as it was. If only. He orbed away from the bridge, from the rain and the lasting echoes of his screams. He orbed away in search of clarity and let the pouring rain wash away his pain as the storm clouds lightened somewhat just as the load did on his breaking back.

****

**The End.**

**If you've been reading at all, and you loved it, hated it, found it okay, just please let me know, now or never kind of thing. Thanks.**


End file.
